In my latest novel, ‘A Rattle of Bones’, Rebecca Connolly investigates a miscarriage of justice and there is a reference made to a true life case – that of Oscar Slater, wrongly convicted of murder in Glasgow. Here is the concluding part of my account of the case
The break came in 1927 when Glasgow journalist William Park published his book ‘The Truth About Oscar Slater’ which was founded heavily on the information provided to him years before by his old friend, John Trench. The book posited that the original investigation had been a shambles and high-ranking officers had conspired to protect the real culprit, the man who maid Helen Lambie seemed to have recognised.
The theory went like this:
The man may have been related to Miss Gilchrist in some way but the two had not been getting along well. He may even have been in the flat before Lambie left. During those ten minutes, he and the victim quarrelled over a document, perhaps a will, and he lashed out in anger. He did not mean to kill but his passions were high. The old woman fell, losing consciousness when her head struck the corner of the coal box. Then he panicked. The wound was severe – there was a great deal of blood – but she might survive long enough to name him. He was a respectable man and such a scandal would destroy him.
So he finished the job off.
He beat her with a chair until it broke into pieces then continued with a heavy chair leg. He beat her and he battered her until he knew she was dead. Then he threw a rug over her body and moved into the bedroom to look for the document he needed. He lit the gas, leaving behind a book of matches, and opened the wooden box. He hauled the papers out and rifled them until he found the one he wanted. He was under pressure, not only because he knew the maid would soon return, but also because someone had rung the bell. Then he heard the door opening and there voices of Helen Lambie and an unknown man. There was nothing left for him to do but brazen it out, so he slipped the document into his pocket and walked into the hallway…
The book led to more questions and the questions led to pressure and the pressure led, finally, to Slater being released on licence on 14 November, 1927. His case was to be examined by the newly formed Scottish Court of Criminal Appeal (a special act of Parliament had to be passed to allow his case to be heard) and the hearing began on 9 July. His counsel disputed the identification process, the decision not to lead the evidence of Dr Adams, the Crown’s claim that Slater tried to evade justice and the unwarranted and uncorroborated attacks on his past and character. The appeal stood or fell on whether the jury’s verdict was unreasonable or unsupported by evidence, whether any new evidence had been introduced and deemed viable, whether the non-disclosure of evidence by the Crown had caused prejudice and whether the judge had misdirected the jury. In the end, the appeal failed on all points but the misdirection – but that technicality was enough to have the conviction quashed and Slater exonerated.
He was granted £6000 compensation, out of which he was expected to pay the costs of his appeal. He moved to Ayr, buying a bungalow at 25 St Phillans Avenue and in 1937 married a woman named Lina. He made a modest living buying and selling jewellery but, being a German and even though he was Jewish, was interned during the Second World War and died, aged 76, on 31 January 1948.
Helen Lambie married a miner and moved to Illinois. Despite several attempts, she refused to discuss the case any further, although she continued to believe that Slater was the killer. Mary Barrowman, who test ivied she had seen Slater in the street outside the murder scene, married and as pressure grew began to backtrack on her evidence.
The thorny question of who ‘A.B.’ was has continued to plague writers. Trench meant well when he revealed this but he gave conspiracy theorists an ideal launch pad. Red herrings like the death of the dog and Miss Gilchrist’s illegitimate daughter have been thrown in to muddy the waters. Names have been bandied, suggested, printed but theories are easy, proof is somewhat more difficult. Even the maid Helen Lambie and her boyfriend have been thrown into the mix. The name Austin Birrell, said to be a nephew, was raised but it now appears this man did not exist. Another suspect was the family’s black sheep who supposedly committed suicide after the murder, but there is evidence that he was in London on the night his aunt died. Another long-time suspect was a respected professor who was very well connected and through family connections was friendly with Lord Advocate Ure who prosecuted Slater. One account even has both men involved in the crime, one committing the murder and escaping through the window while the other looked for the mysterious document and walked calmly out of the door. The will itself, however, may have been another red herring.
If such a suspect was named, why would police suppress any evidence linking him to the crime? Writers have suggested a grand conspiracy in which a class-ridden constabulary, perhaps under Masonic influence, ignored evidence linking a member of a well-to-do family with a brutal murder and actively framing a sleazy foreigner. And to keep their secret safe, they even sacrificed one of their own along the way. Thomas Toughill, who more than any other recent chronicler of the case has kept the scandal alive and who first suggested the collusion between the black sheep relative and the professor, revealed that Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald had in fact passed letters to the Scottish Secretary naming the real culprit.
It all makes for a fascinating conspiracy story but the truth could also be much simpler. The city’s criminal history is littered with the names of good men gone bad but in this case the conspiracy may have been as simple as police officers seizing on the person they deemed the likeliest suspect. Evidence was not followed but was adapted to fit their pre-conceived scenario. This is the Prime Suspect syndrome and some officers, poor officers, have suffered from it through the decades.
However, the truth may be even more mundane. In ‘Life Begins at Midnight’, former Detective Superintendent Robert Colquhoun put forward another scenario, based on information received from an old Glasgow criminal he named as ‘Andy’. Crime writer and historian Richard Whittington-Egan picked up the clue and ran with it in ‘The Oscar Slater Murder Story’.
This theory holds that the murder was an accident during a jewel robbery. A gang of thieves then active in the city had heard of Miss Gilchrist’s hoard of jewellery and had watched her flat for some time. Two of them did the job, which went badly wrong and ended in the murder. Only that single item of swag was grabbed as one went out the window and the other daringly walked past Lambie and Adams in the hall. Whittington-Egan revealed the mysterious ‘Andy’ to be Richard Craig, a safeblower active in the early part of the 20th century. Craig, it seemed, had shared a cell with one Jimmy Inglis who had formed part of the robbery team casing Miss Gilchrist’s flat. Although arrested prior to the killing, Inglis said two men named Wilson and Jamieson were the killers.
That does not excuse what we see now to be a shoddy investigation. It also could be seen as a former officer trying somehow to salvage some honour for the force he served with distinction. And it does not salve the wounds left by the dreadful treatment of John Trench.
The case of Oscar Slater remains a potent mystery in the panoply of Glasgow crime. As with the case of Madeleine Smith, accused of poisoning her lover when he became inconvenient, it has prompted books, articles and one TV drama. As with Madeleine Smith, we will probably never know the truth.
