The Ability to Kill (9 page)

Miss Tregoff’s account was no less extraordinary. From her hiding place she had heard screams, a shot, police cars and policemen. If, as she said, Mrs Finch had had the gun, she must have feared that the doctor had been shot. Yet she claimed not to have known what had happened until she heard it over the radio as she was driving back to Las Vegas.

It really was too much to swallow.

The admitted facts were that they had made their separate ways back to Las Vegas. Even allowing for the conventional panic after the accidental killing (‘I didn’t know
what
I was doing!’) the rest of the evidence looked remarkably like a pathetic and ill-considered attempt to improvise an alibi for Miss Tregoff.

When her evidence came to be heard it added nothing to what jury already knew. She just stuck to her story and that was that.

Superior Judge Walter R. Evans summed up accurately and fairly.

The jury deliberated for eight days and then announced that they were unable to agree upon a verdict. Some of the jurors
were indiscreet enough to discuss the matter with the press later. They had been together for almost ten weeks and racial dissensions (the jury was not all-white) had, it appeared, led to ugly scenes in the jury room. The possibility of their agreeing about anything had been remote.

On June 28 a new trial was ordered.

It began, before Superior Judge LeRoy Dawson and a jury of eleven women and one man, on July 20. For the prosecution, this time, was Assistant District Attorney Crail. Mr Cooper again defended Dr Finch.

On October 19 the case went to the jury.

Twenty-four hours later, when it had become apparent that this jury, too, was unable to agree, Judge Dawson called them back into court and admonished them in startling terms.

He said that in his opinion they ought not to believe the evidence of Dr Finch and Miss Tregoff.

Cooper immediately protested. As the judge continued, Cooper interrupted constantly, and was twice told to be silent. Finally, he was cited for contempt of court.
^a

Brushing aside further protests, Judge Dawson now told the jury: ‘The explanation given by the defendant, Dr Finch, as to the circumstances surrounding the firing of the fatal shot to me does not sound reasonable. In none of its aspects does it appear to me to have been anything but an attempt to justify what is shown by the evidence, in my opinion, to be a wilful and deliberate taking of human life.… To my mind the testimony given by the witness John Cody regarding the purpose for which he was employed was more believable than the testimony of the two defendants on the subject.’

But it was no good. After deliberating for a total of twenty days, the jury announced that they were unable to agree upon a verdict.

Dismissing them, Judge Dawson commented that, ‘the failure of this jury to reach a verdict in this case raises a very disquieting question in the minds of all of us who are interested in the maintenance and functioning of the jury system.’

A third trial was ordered. It began on January 4, 1961, before Superior Judge David Coleman and a jury of ten men and two women. This time, Dr Finch was defended not by Mr Cooper in person, but by one of his associates.

The case went to the jury on March 23. Five days later they asked for the judge’s guidance. Would there, they wanted to know, be any legal conflict in verdicts of guilty of first degree murder against one defendant, guilty of second degree murder against the other, and guilty of conspiracy against both?

The judge said that there would not.

The jury then brought in those verdicts: Dr Finch guilty of murder in the first degree, Miss Tregoff guilty of murder in the second degree, both guilty of conspiracy.

On the following week the jury reconvened to determine the sentences. After a further twelve hours of deliberation, they asked the judge if they could return a verdict of life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. He told them that the law did not permit the qualification.

Forty minutes later the jury determined sentences of life imprisonment for both defendants.

After dismissing motions by the defence for a new trial and modification of Miss Tregoff’s sentence, Judge Coleman said: ‘The jury’s verdict speaks for itself. This was a brutal murder. There is no miscarriage of justice. The proof of their guilt is overwhelming.’

Both may apply for parole after serving seven years of their sentences.

Meanwhile, the doctor has had time for reflection. If Mrs Finch had lived to go through with the divorce suit he would have been stripped of most of his assets. As it was, he had to pay for his defence. The services of the best lawyers are never cheap. One day in September, 1959, at the jail, the doctor signed an agreement which was then lodged with the County Recorder.

In it, the doctor agreed to pay Mr Cooper a retainer of $25,000, plus $350 a day for each day of the trial in Superior Court. In order to cover these fees, the doctor assigned to Mr Cooper his assets in the West Covina Medical Center and its corporations, plus the deeds of his house, plus his cars and a twenty-two foot speedboat. Mr Cooper was empowered to sell what was necessary to pay his fees and expenses and hand back what remained afterwards. This fee arrangement covered the preparation of a motion for a new trial if that became necessary; but not the conduct of the case in any appelate court. If Mr Cooper were called upon to render further services to his client, fresh financial arrangements would have to be made. No doubt they were.

Perhaps Cody’s mountain-top idea had not been so foolish after all.

In August 1961, Mr Michael John Gregsten and Miss Valerie Storie were scientific workers on the staff of the Road Research Laboratory at Langley, near Slough in Buckinghamshire. Gregsten was a happily married man of thirty-four with two young children. Miss Storie was twenty-two and single. They were both members of the Laboratory staff motor club, and regularly took part in the club rallies.

Shortly before eight o’clock on the evening of Tuesday, August 22, they set out with maps and notebooks in Gregsten’s car to survey the route of an eighty-mile rally which they were organising for the following Sunday. The car was a grey, four-door Morris Minor saloon.

Just after eight o’clock, they stopped briefly for a drink at the Old Station Inn, Taplow and then drove on along the route as far as Dorney Reach. There, they stopped just off the road by the edge of a cornfield. It was about 8.45 then and beginning to get dark. They had been there about twenty minutes, discussing the route and the timings and making their notes, when there was a tap on the window beside Gregsten.

What happened to the car and its occupants during the next ten hours was described by counsel at a hearing before the Ampthill Magistrates’ Court in November. However, on that occasion Miss Storie’s own evidence was heard
in camera.
This account is based on her evidence given at Bedfordshire Assizes in the following January.

She said that when Gregsten started to wind down the
window, the man outside who had tapped on the glass thrust a gun inside. He said: ‘This is a hold-up. I am a desperate man. I have been on the run for four months. You do as I tell you, you will be all right.’

He then demanded the ignition key. Gregsten handed it over. The gunman locked the driver’s door and got into the back of the car.

He kept talking. He said that he had not eaten for two days and that he had been sleeping out for the past two nights. He flourished the gun and remarked that he had not had it very long. ‘This is like a cowboy’s gun,’ he added. ‘I feel like a cowboy.’

Miss Storie thought the remark about sleeping out peculiar, because it had rained heavily the previous night and, as far as she could see, the man’s clothes appeared ‘immaculate.’

The gunman now returned the ignition key and told Gregsten to drive farther off the road into the field. Gregsten did so. The gunman then demanded their money and valuables. In the darkness, Miss Storie was able to remove most of the money from her handbag before handing it over.

The gunman went on talking. He complained again that he was hungry. In desperation they told him to take the car and the money and go—anything, if he would just leave them. He asked if there was something to eat in the car. Told that there wasn’t, the gunman seemed to forget about food. He said, ‘there’s no hurry,’ and added that every policeman in England was looking for him. He would wait until morning, then tie them up and leave.

To the wretched victims the whole thing must have been as bewildering as it was terrifying. They had given the man money and other valuables, they had offered to let him take the car and leave them stranded in the middle of a cornfield, they had tried to appease him in every way. But he did not seem to
know
what
he wanted. In her evidence Miss Storie referred again and again to his indecision. The suggestion made later (though not by Miss Storie) that his sole motive from the beginning had been that of rape is difficult to accept. The confused behaviour is typical of a certain type of psychopath. It is probable that at that point he did not know what he meant to do.

The three had been sitting in the car for about an hour when a door in a near-by house opened. By the light inside they could see someone putting away a bicycle. The gunman became alarmed. ‘If that man comes over here,’ he told them, ‘don’t say anything. If you say anything, I will shoot him and then I will shoot you.’

Nobody came over, and after a while the gunman began talking again about being hungry. He could not stand it any longer, he said. He would go and find something to eat. He told Gregsten to get out, that he would drive. Gregsten, he decided, would be placed in the boot of the car.

Miss Storie’s account of the arguments she had had to use in order to dissuade the gunman from putting this last proposal into practice is frightening. The Morris Minor is a well-designed car, but it is small. The very thought of cramming a fully grown man, alive, into the boot seems absurd. Yet, it was not until Miss Storie had declared desperately that there was a leak in the exhaust system and that the fumes from it would kill anyone placed in the boot, that the gunman could be persuaded to abandon the plan.

This grotesque discussion took place outside the car. It is interesting, not only for its high fantasy content, but because,
for the first time
, Miss Storie saw that the gunman had a folded handkerchief tied ‘gangster fashion’ over the lower part of his face. He had a Cockney accent she recalled. For ‘things’ and ‘think,’ he said ‘fings’ and ‘fink.’

The gunman finally decided that he would return to the back seat and that Gregsten should drive, with the revolver at the back of his head to ensure that he followed the directions given.

The drive began. Directed by the gunman they went through Slough towards Stanmore. During this part of the drive, the gunman removed the handkerchief from his face, but warned Gregsten and Miss Storie to keep their eyes on the road ahead. Miss Storie said that she did not see his face clearly during the drive. He talked a lot, however. There was self-pity. He said that he had been in a remand home and that he had ‘done the lot’ and had never had a chance in life. There were friendly overtures. He returned their watches to them. Near London Airport, he told Gregsten to stop at a garage and gave him a pound note with which to buy petrol. There was a threepenny piece in the change. The gunman gave it to Miss Storie as a ‘wedding present.’ At Stanmore, he allowed Gregsten to stop and buy cigarettes from a vending machine. Miss Storie lighted cigarettes for Gregsten and herself, and handed one to the gunman behind them. As he took it, she noticed that he was wearing black gloves.

At Kingsbury the gunman directed them on to the A5 road to St Albans, and then on to the A6 road to Bedford. By then Gregsten had begun flashing the car’s reversing light in an effort to attract attention of some passing motorist. He did succeed in making one driver slow down and point to the rear of the car. The gunman saw the signal and misunderstood it. He made Gregsten stop, and then checked that the rear lights were on. Miss Storie also said that Gregsten had managed to convey to her that he intended, if they saw a policeman, to turn the car up on to the pavement near him. However, during the drive, which covered forty-three miles, they saw no policeman.

The gunman, meanwhile, had forgotten his hunger and now
said that he needed somewhere to have a sleep. He would tie Gregsten and Miss Storie up first. At Deadman’s Hill, on the A6 road at Clophill, near Luton, he saw a lay-by and told Gregsten to turn into it. Gregsten did so. When the car came to a standstill, he was told to switch off the lights.

There was some rope in the car. The gunman tied Miss Storie’s wrists, not very securely, to a door handle. Earlier in the evening there had been a duffel bag full of laundry in the back of the car. The gunman had made them move it to the front. Now, he told Gregsten to pass it into the back seat. It may have been that he had decided to use the bag as a pillow. We don’t know. As Gregsten heaved the bag over, the gunman shot him twice in the back of the head.

Gregsten fell forward and Miss Storie began to scream. The gunman told her to stop. Miss Storie said to him: ‘You shot him, you bastard. Why did you do that?’

‘He frightened me,’ was the reply. ‘He moved too quick. I got frightened.’