Twenty-three-year-old Patrick Mackay was a psychotic killer who was responsible for a series of largely motiveless attacks that had baffled detectives. Initially sceptical, the police were astonished at Mackay’s detailed knowledge of at least 10 unsolved murders. Could he really have committed every one of them?
Patrick Mackay suffered from a quite terrifying mental illness. He was addicted to violence and consumed with an uncontrollable urge to commit murder. Now, as he strode up the drive of the old people's home in the village of Shorne, Kent, he was hell-bent on killing one particular man.
The man was Father Anthony Crean, a Catholic priest who had befriended Mackay and tried to help free him of the demons that possessed his soul.
The home was run by Carmelite nuns, with the 63-year-old padre in charge. There was no answer to Mackay's knock, but the door was open and so he let himself in to wait. After an hour or so Father Crean returned.
He smiled when he saw 23-year-old Mackay, but the smile dissolved in an instant as he recognised the hate in the eyes of the approaching man.
Father Crean knew all about Mackay's love of inflicting pain. Panic-stricken, he tried to run, but Mackay seized him by the throat and pushed him to the ground.
Father Crean was slightly built and only 1.55m tall - no match at all for his attacker, who stood a muscular 1.88m. He cried out: 'Please don't hurt me' To Mackay, the words were like a red rag to a bull.
He dragged the priest to the stairs, grabbing a small axe from a box of firewood in the passage. He pulled his victim upstairs to a bathroom and dumped him fully clothed in the bath. There, with both taps turned full on, Mackay pulled a knife from his pocket and stabbed Father Crean a dozen times. Then he picked up the axe and sank it into his former friend's head six times.
Mackay sat next to the bath for an hour, waiting for the priest to die. Then he climbed out of a rear window of the building and made his escape.
It was the evening of 21 March 1975. Father Crean's body was discovered at about 1am the next day by one of the Carmelite nuns.
It took the police only two days to track down Mackay at a flat in Stockwell, London. He had been a prime suspect from the start because of his liking for violence and his previous association with the priest. Two years before, Mackay had stolen a cheque from the padre after breaking into his cottage. He had altered the total on the cheque and cashed it, but had been caught and fined. This 'unjust' treatment was, in Mackay's mind, reason enough for him to take bloody revenge.
In the custody of murder squad officers, Mackay said: 'I thoroughly enjoyed killing him. I just had an urge to use the axe to take his head off. When he asked me not to hurt him I couldn’t control myself. The blood made me more excited, it just made me worse.’
Remanded into custody
Mackay was remanded into custody in Brixton Prison. That he was guilty of murder, there was no doubt whatsoever. But in the following weeks evidence was to emerge that Mackay, a man who had been diagnosed as a psychopath when he was only 15, was a serial killer. In the annals of crime he may even be in the same league as Yorkshire Ripper Peter Sutcliffe and strangler Dennis Nilsen.
Mackay was eventually charged with five murders, but detectives believe he was responsible for twice that number.
The first hint that Mackay might be a serial killer came when he befriended another inmate in Brixton Prison. Mackay had boasted to the man: 'I have killed at least 11 people.' The prisoner reported the conversation to the staff, who passed the information to Scotland Yard.
Detective Superintendent John Bland of the Murder Squad was given the task of checking the story. First he interviewed the prisoner who had reported Mackay's boasts. Bland was aware that men awaiting trial on serious charges would often 'grass' on other prisoners in the hope that this might encourage leniency in their own cases. The prisoner was adamant about what Mackay had said.
The next task was to interview Mackay himself. Bland found him a menacing and unnerving character, but one who was prepared to talk freely about his appalling crimes. Over several days the detective recorded more than 200 pages of statements and notes as Mackay confessed to a further 10 murders.
Looking at the prisoner's psychiatric reports, his periods in mental hospitals, his obvious love of violence, the detective had no doubt that Mackay was capable of killing more than once. But Bland, one of the Yard's most experienced officers, also knew that people like Mackay frequently made false confessions. Their motives were varied. Some thought they would gain status among fellow villains the more terrible were their crimes. Others did it simply to cause confusion as well as to waste police time.
But by the time Mackay had finished, Bland had details of nine killings listed as unsolved in police files. A 10th murder, where Mackay claimed to have thrown an unknown vagrant into the river Thames from Hungerford Bridge, would be impossible to check because no such body had been found. Bland now spent weeks carefully reading the files that had been compiled on each case by the investigating officers.
Crude weapon
Mackay claimed his trail of murders started in Finsbury Park, north London, on 13 June 1973. There, Mackay walked into a small tobacconist's shop run by 62-year-old Frank Goodman. It was 8.30pm and Mr Goodman was about to close. Mackay set about Mr Goodman with a length of lead pipe, shattering his skull with the crude weapon. Then Mackay rifled the till and filled his pockets with packets of cigarettes from Mr Goodman's display. Detectives had only one clue about the murderer: a clear footprint left in a pool of blood on the shop floor.
Mackay claimed he had struck for the second time at Kentish Town, London, on 20 July 1973, when he broke into the home of 73-year-old spinster Mary Hynes and battered her to death.
The third murder he said he had committed was that of 18-year-old Heidi Mnilk, a German au pair who, that same month, was stabbed in the compartment of a Southern Region train shortly after it left Charing Cross station.
Horrific double murder
His fourth and fifth killings were the horrific double murder of 54-year-old grandmother Stephanie Britton and her five-year-old grandson Christopher, both found stabbed to death at Mrs Britton’s home in Hadley Green, Hertfordshire, in January 1974. It was a savage and motiveless crime. Detectives knew they were looking for no ordinary killer. Any stranger who could murder an innocent child so cruelly had to be psychotic.
The killing spree continued, according to Mackay, later the same month when he had argued with an elderly vagrant near London's Hungerford Bridge late at night. He had picked the man up and heaved him over the parapet into the freezing waters of the Thames, 10m below.
Murder victim number seven was wealthy Isabella Griffiths, aged 87, who was killed at her home in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, on 14 February 1974. She lived alone and the murder was not discovered until two weeks later. Mackay told police that at this time he was making a living by mugging wealthy old women in Knightsbridge and Chelsea. He would lie in wait outside famous stores like Harrods or Fortnum and Mason and follow the women home, attacking them on their own doorsteps.
One evening he spotted Mrs Griffiths and followed her. But for some reason he took pity on the old lady and offered to carry her shopping instead. Over the next few days he did chores for her.
He was then arrested for petty crime and sent to a mental hospital. But he walked out on 14 February and headed for Mrs Griffiths's home. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kill. When he reached her house he forced open the front door, smashing the safety chain, and grabbed her by the throat, throttling her until she collapsed. Then he fetched a 30cm knife from the kitchen and plunged it into her body.
‘I strangled her’
Mackay calmly told detectives: ‘I strangled her and then got the kitchen knife and rammed it through her solar plexus. I then drank a whole bottle of whisky. Then I thought I ought to make her more comfortable so I straightened her arms like an undertaker might. Her eyes were staring at me, so I closed them. Then I covered her up with some clothes to keep her warm like a sleeping bag. I then went around the house and drew all the curtains’
Mackay told the police how he had pulled the knife out of her body and considered killing himself with it, but then changed his mind. He added: 'She was not a bad old soul and why I killed her I will never know.’
Battered to death
The next victim, the eighth he claimed to have killed, was 92-year-old spinster Sarah Rodwell, who was found battered to death at her home in Ash Road, Hackney, on 23 December 1974. Mrs Rodwell had been to her local pub, the Temple Street Tap, where she went every night for a bottle of Guinness. Her killer had followed her home. As she had fumbled for her door key on the front step she was attacked from behind and battered to death. Her purse, containing a £5 Christmas pension bonus, was stolen from her bag.
Victim nine, according to Mackay, was 63-year-old Ivy Davies who owned and ran the Orange Tree cafe in Westcliff, near Southend-on-Sea, Essex. She was found dead at her home on 9 February 1975, battered with an axe and stabbed with a sharp steel tent peg. No motive was found for the killing.
The 10th victim was another wealthy widow, 89-year-old Adele Price. Mackay told how, on 10 March 1975, he followed her from the shops in Chelsea to her flat in exclusive Lowndes Square in Belgravia. He followed her into the hallway, overtook her on the stairs and then pretended to have hurt his leg. Kindly Mrs Price offered to make him a cup of tea.
A ferocious attack
With the front door of her apartment shut behind them, Mackay lost no time in launching another ferocious attack, strangling her with his bare hands. After the killing Mackay fell asleep on the sofa. He was awoken some hours later by a knocking at the door. Mrs Price's granddaughter had come to pay a visit. Mackay burst out of the apartment, bidding the startled woman 'good evening' as he dashed away.
Two days later Mackay decided to commit suicide by throwing himself in front of a tube train at Stockwell. He climbed off the platform on to the track and stood between the live rails waiting for a train. Alert staff switched off the power. Mackay was arrested and taken to a mental hospital where, after examination, he was declared to be suffering from a psychopathic personality disorder.
But six days later he was released and he went to visit his mother in Dartford, Kent. Five days after arriving there he set off to axe Father Crean to death.
Challenging task
Superintendent Bland now had the challenging task of trying to find out which murders Mackay had really committed - and which ones he had not.
In the case of Frank Goodman there was an excellent piece of evidence. Mackay had told Bland how, after stepping in his victim's blood, he had realised his shoes could incriminate him and had hidden them in Finchley cemetery. He was escorted there from prison handcuffed to police. Although he said he could no longer remember the exact spot, a thorough search uncovered the shoes hidden behind an overgrown headstone.
Dried blood on shoes
At the police laboratories the sole of one was found to be saturated with dried blood. The blood was the same type as that of the victim. The pattern and size of the sole also matched exactly the footprint in the blood at Frank Goodman's shop.
The people with whom Mackay had been lodging in Finchley also told the police how he had arrived home on the night of the murder with his pockets bulging with cigarettes and £5 notes.
In the case of Adele Price, her granddaughter was able to identify Mackay as the man who had pushed past her hurrying out of Mrs Price's flat on the day she was murdered.
At Isabella Griffiths's home in fashionable Cheyne Walk, police scientists dusted for fingerprints and found a number that belonged to Mackay.
In the case of Mary Hynes, police initially believed his story was a pack of lies. Mackay had been detained in a remand centre at the time and so was not at liberty to commit the crime. He told Superintendent Bland and his colleagues that he had found a way to get out of the remand centre, and back in, without being discovered. His description of the inside of Miss Hynes's home and of the injuries inflicted on her, however, were so accurate that the police had no choice but to believe his story.
Five murder charges
As a result, Patrick Mackay was duly charged with the murders of Mrs Griffiths, Mrs Price, Mary Hynes, Frank Goodman and Father Crean.
Mackay, described on his charge sheet as an unemployed gardener, went on trial at the Old Bailey in November 1975. He was charged with five murders and two robberies of women aged 75 and 79 in the Chelsea area in February and March 1975. He appeared in the dock wearing a black suit and a black shirt and tie and surrounded by four prison guards. He pleaded not guilty to murdering Mrs Griffiths, Mrs Price and Father Crean, but instead entered a plea of guilty to manslaughter through diminished responsibility. The plea was accepted by the prosecution. The charges of murdering Mary Hynes and Frank Goodman were left on the file.
What it felt like to be a killer
The jury heard how Mackay had coolly described what it felt like to be a killer. He had told detectives: 'Anybody doing a killing enjoys it at the time. I certainly did. It is an animal experience.' He also told them: 'Each person has an individual destiny - this is mine! Mackay also asked for a further 24 robberies to be taken into consideration.
The court heard that when questioned about his crimes he had told detectives: 'I have bag-snatched and bashed a lot of old ladies. I can’t remember them all now, but if you tell me about the ones you have I will tell you whether I did them or not. It was like a disease, and a curtain in my mind came down over certain incidents which are too horrific to mention.'
Two psychiatrists who had examined Mackay told the court that he suffered from a gross personality problem, which made it difficult for him to know right from wrong. Dr Peter Duncan Scott, a consultant to the Home Office, said: 'He has a need to try and solve his emotional problems through violent crime. It is a persistent disorder which has resulted in abnormally aggressive behaviour.'
Psychopathic disorder
Professor Trevor Gibbins of London University said Mackay was suffering from an extreme form of psychopathic disorder. ‘I regard him as a risk to the public, himself, and the staff and inmates of any establishment he is sent to. He needs prolonged detention.’
The judge, Mr Justice Milmo, decided that Mackay had known what he was doing when he killed and that he should be sent to jail rather than to a mental hospital. Sentencing Mackay to life imprisonment, he told him: ‘You are a highly dangerous man and it is my duty to protect the public. I am going to make an order that ensures you will not be released until you cease to be the menace you are now.' The judge added that, in his view, mental illness was not an issue. He told Mackay: 'The medical evidence makes it clear that you are not insane within the McNaghten rules, because you knew what you were doing and you knew it was wrong.’
VICTIMS
Father Crean
Father Crean had known Patrick Mackay for some time. Two years earlier Mackay had broken into Crean’s home and stolen a cheque, which he subsequently cashed. Mackay was caught and fined: but no one anticipated the savagery of his revenge.
Stephanie Britton and Christoper Martin
In January of 1974 Mackay viciously stabbed to death Stephanie Britton, aged 54, while robbing her home in Hadley Green Road, Barnet.
Mackay had no compunction in murdering Mrs Britton's five-year-old grandson during the same assault. Police investigating the double murder could find no motive for the killings.
Adele Price
Adele Price was a wealthy widow whom Mackay spotted while she was out shopping. He followed the elderly woman home to Lowndes Square, went up the stairs ahead of her and then pretended that he had injured his leg. When Mrs Price saw Mackay she invited him to her flat for a cup of tea. He closed the door and then strangled the old lady to death.
HOW MANY DID MACKAY KILL?
The police case was made more complex when Mackay withdrew all of his confessions, except those to the Griffiths, Crean and Price murders. But detectives still believed that he committed the others.
Tests showed that in all the cases where the victims had been hit or stabbed, the weapon had been wielded by a left-hander. Mackay was left-handed. In the murders of all the women, the attacker had hunted through their homes and wrapped the bodies in spare clothes before leaving. And in each case his descriptions of the inside as well as the outside of the victim's home, the clothes he or she was wearing, the weapon used, and the type of injuries were wholly accurate.
Newspaper cuttings
Detectives checked hundreds of newspaper cuttings on the crimes. In each one Mackay told them a wealth of accurate detail that he could not have gleaned from the newspapers as none of the information had ever been published.
In the case of the murder of Ivy Davies although Mackay subsequently withdrew his confession, he agreed that he knew the victim, knew the cafe she ran, and admitted he had once made plans to rob her.
Bogus confession
The only confession detectives decided was bogus was that to the murder of German au pair, Heidi Mnilk. Mackay was living in the New Cross area at the time, close to one of the stations at which Heidi's train had stopped. But after many hours of skilful questioning by Detective Superintendent Bill Ramsey, the officer in charge of the case, it was decided there were such glaring inconsistencies in Mackay's story that the confession was suspect.
The largest of these concerned the raincoat that Heidi had been carrying when she boarded the train. Detectives had kept secret that the killer had taken it away with him when he left the train, but Mackay made no mention of the missing coat.
EVIL MIND
The making of a maniac
Patrick Mackay was born in September 1952 in north London. His father was an accountant who drank heavily and flew into violent rages, beating Patrick, his mother and his two sisters.
The violence soon rubbed off. By the time Patrick was seven years old he was already showing signs of developing a severe personality disorder. A report from his junior school described him as 'a very violent pupil, a bully and a liar.' He quickly developed a reputation as a thief to add to his antisocial traits.
If he could find no one at school or in the street on whom to vent his violence, he would attack his mother or his two little sisters. Ruth and Heather. If he couldn't find a human to hurt he would torture pet animals instead. He mutilated a pet cat and a rabbit with a knife and pulled out their claws with pliers. On another occasion he lit a bonfire and roasted a tortoise alive over the flames.
Out of control
By the time he was 13 he was totally out of control. Educationally backward, and already a strapping 1.6m tall, he terrorised both pupils and teachers alike and was sent to a mental hospital. It was the first of seven spells of psychiatric care he underwent before committing his first murder. He was sent to an approved school, then back to another mental hospital. By the age of 15 doctors had labelled him a psychopath.
By the time he was tried for murder he had been arrested 11 times for burglary, assault and theft. In 1968, as a 16-year-old, he was arrested for attacking two smaller boys whose heads he had battered on the pavement, and was put on probation. Within weeks he was arrested again after nearly strangling a 12-year-old boy while stealing his watch.
At this time he started to worship the Nazis and decorated this room with pictures of Adolf Hitler and of concentration camp victims.
After he had attempted to strangle his mother he was sent to Moss Side psychiatric hospital in Liverpool. But after only a year it was decided he had recovered enough to be allowed back into society and, remarkably, he returned to live with his mother in Dartford.
Chilling postscript
Mackay added a chilling postscript to his own story He told psychiatrists and police, ‘I should never have been allowed to live in the outside world. I told the doctors I should not be released. They just told me I was OK and should take my place in society. The doctors at Moss Side said I should never be let out. But a Mental Health Tribunal released me. They should have known better.’
