Frederick William Randall

I was in a depressed condition, realising what had happened in relation to the child, and I felt ashamed. Rape was foreign to my nature and abhorrent to myself and other people. I sought a means of getting dealt with on a bigger charge, rather than a lesser one, because I was thoroughly ashamed.

I want to tell you all about how Mr Randall died. What happened was this. I returned to the Clapham/Brixton area in January or February, 1962. I think it was the last day in January, 1962. I had been corresponding with a Mrs Elsie Mary Randall, who was living at 114 Clapham Road, SW9, whilst I was away from this area.

When I returned in January 1962, I went to lodge at her house. I had been taking her out before I went to lodge there, really I went there to live with her. Mrs Randall was living there with her husband, Mr Frederick Randall. Mr Randall looked after the house which he ran as a cheap rooming house. Mrs Randall worked, and I believe still does, as the manageress of the Strand Theatre, Aldwych.

At this time, I was working for Bell's of Westminster, Builders, at 46 Clapham Road, SW9, as a painter.

Mr Randall did not sleep in the same room as his wife. I used to sleep with her, with her husband's knowledge, he condoned it. I wanted her to leave that house and to come away and live with me, but she wouldn't leave her husband. I don't know the reason for this, but I thought that if he wasn't there she would leave it and I wanted to get her out of' that house.

At about this time, I was suffering from what later transpired to be a peptic or peptic ulcer. I was being treated by Dr Magonett who practised with Dr Mariwalli or a name like that. Their surgery is in Bedford Road at the corner with Sandmere Road, SW9. Dr Mariwalli, she is an Indian, was giving me capsules for insomnia. I didn't use all that she gave me, so that I was able to bank a few from each supply she gave me. In the end, I had two white boxes full of these sleeping capsules, I suppose I had forty or fifty all told.

Mr Randall fell ill with a chest cold and as Mrs Randall was working late each evening I used to take him in a hot drink at about 8pm each night. This particular night I had been on to Mrs Randall about 'shutting up shop' and coming away with me, but she refused. I thought, well, if he's not there she may come away with me. I got hold of one of the boxes of capsules, shook them into my hand, and put them all into the cup of cocoa I had prepared for Mr Randall. I stirred them up and they disappeared. I put about twenty or thirty into the cup. I took the cocoa into Mr Randall and stayed there whilst he drank it. He complained about the taste, but told him it was probably the milk and anyhow he did drink it eventually.

Mr Randall lived in the basement kitchen through the day, but slept in a bedroom on the first floor, I think it was No 3 bedroom.

Mrs Randall and I slept on the ground floor, just inside the front door on the right in the back. She had the two ground floor rooms. As I say, I waited while Mr Randall drank the cocoa and then I went and watched the 'telly' in Mrs Randall's living room, the front ground floor room.

About an hour later, that would be nine o' clockish, I went back to Mr Randall' s bedroom and I saw that he was dead. He was sitting up in bed leaning back against some cupboards which were beside the bed. The cup and saucer were on the little table at the side of the bed, they were empty. I pulled Mr Randall down the bed so that he was in a 'sleeping position', and covered him with the bedclothes so that it would seem that everything was in order and that he had died in his sleep. I took the cup and saucer and left the room. I washed out the cup and saucer and just waited for Mrs Randall to come home.

She came home at about 10.45pm, and shortly after went to see her husband. She came to me and told me that her husband had passed away. I cannot remember if she fetched a doctor the same night or next morning, I am not certain of that, anyhow, you can check that by asking her.

Mr Randall's own doctor, don't know his name but he lives Just over the road from them in Clapham Road, came and certified death. I think he said it was 'natural causes'.

I think someone said something about if he was to be cremated there would have to be an inquest, but if he was buried the inquest would not be necessary. I suggested that he be buried and Mrs Randall agreed and the funeral was conducted by a firm in Brixton Road, just below the Russell Hotel, they had adverts for pianos, second-hand ones, in the front garden.

Mrs Randall still wouldn't come away with me after this, so I took to the drink. I took some rate money of hers and got drunk on it and we had a bit of an argument, but I still stayed on there.

A bit after this I tried to get her to get rid of her dog. It was a dirty dog, it used to smell and it used to get dirty in the garden and then come and rub itself up against your clothes. She wouldn't part with it so one night whilst she was at work I gave the dog some of the capsules. I mixed them in with some dog food, it was like meat, broken up biscuits. I mixed them in and wet it and gave it to the dog. A couple of hours or so later, I went out in the garden and there it was dead. I left it there till next morning and let Mrs Randall find it and she thought it had been run over and put there. She told me about it and asked me to bury it for her. I buried the dog on the right hand side of the garden right beside the division wall between her house and the neighbours, about midway and only about a foot below the surface.

Shortly after this, I went into St. Thomas's Hospital, Westminster, for an operation for my stomach ulcer. I was there for a fortnight and instead of going to a convalescent home I went back to Mrs Randall's place. I got one of these fits of depression and about a fortnight later I took my 'hook off' down to Bristol.

I got this job at the South Western Hospital and I have been there ever since, that is up to last Sunday, 29th November, 1964, when I got the sack for being drunk.

I have still been seeing Mrs Randall occasionally, she lives at 6 South Island Place, SW9 in a room at the back. She still works at the Strand Theatre and is hoping to get a flat at Peabody Buildings somewhere.

Mr Randall was buried, I think, at Swindon, I think that's where it was, it was done on the cheap. That's all I can say about Mr and Mrs Randall.

I murdered him and it’s been on my blinking mind. I think it's that that's been making me drink so much rum.

On the 13th October, 1928, I married Frederick William Randall. In 1941 we moved to Clapham Road, SW9, which we ran as a boarding house. In 1946 we adopted a son. From that time my husband and I slept in separate rooms. He slept on the first floor and I on the first floor also. In 1955 I met the defendant, and from approximately February 1961 he came to live with me sharing my bedroom and living quarters. In 1962 my husband was approximately 80 years of age and had been ailing for some time. About October 1962, he had an attack of bronchitis and was in bed for about eight weeks until he then died. He was in bed for the whole of those eight weeks and during that time was being treated by Dr Tehan.

As part of the prescribed medicine he had sleeping tablets which were left on the mantlepiece in my husband's room in a little white box. One was given to my husband at every 7.00 o'clock. I worked during the evenings and I normally left one tablet in a little matchbox beside his bed and he used to take it himself. He took it with either water or milk which I took to him. At night he would have a hot drink which was taken to him either by the defendant or my son. I can't remember how many times Dr Tehan gave me a prescription for sleeping tablets. I received the last one about a week before my husband died. The sleeping tablets were little pink tablets. They were not capsules. I'm positive. I had received nothing whatsoever other than those sleeping tablets for my husband.  Dr Tehan prescribed about 10 of the sleeping tablets at a time.

At that time I had a white sealyham bitch. On the 26th January 1963 I left my husband at about 1.30pm. I had given him his food. The defendant or my son were to look after my husband in my absence. My son was there when I left. I knew my son intended to go out that evening. My husband was still in bed. His condition as far as I could see was that he was very weak. I took him out of bed and washed him and changed him and found him very weak. When I left him he was lying flat on his back with about three pillows under his head and his shoulders. I returned at about 11.30pm and went to my living room and the defendant was there. I had a cup of tea with the defendant. Nothing was said about my husband. After that I went to my husband's room and found the light was on there. My husband was lying on his back with his fingers to his mouth. The bedclothes were perfectly in order. I could see he was dead.

I came down to the sitting room where the defendant still was and I said to him 'I think Fred has gone'. I cried. The defendant took me in his arms and said, 'Don't upset yourself'. I suggested we rang for a doctor and I then went to my sister's house at 103 Clapham Road and she telephoned Dr Tehan. The defendant remained at my house. I went back to my house and waited the arrival of Dr Tehan. When he arrived I went to my husband's room with him and I saw the doctor pick up from the floor one of my husband's pink sleeping tablets. I am positive that's what it was.

Before I had gone out I had left as usual the tablet in a matchbox by my husband's bed. When I was there with the doctor I did not notice if the matchbox was still there. I did not notice if there was anything like a cup or a saucer beside his bed. Sometimes there was a beaker there and sometimes not. It was in a beaker that he had his hot drink. I was present when Dr Tehan examined my husband. He certified my husband as dead.

The funeral arrangements were undertaken by Mr Sweeting and my husband was buried in a grave which I bought at Lambeth Cemetery, Tooting, on the 30th January 1963. The defendant and I continued to live together.

My dog died about three months after my husband had died. I did not ask the defendant anything about the death of my dog. I saw it by the bottom gate in the back garden. It was dead. There seemed to be a black line down one side from her head to her tail which made me think that maybe she had been knocked down. I went in and told the defendant that the dog was dead at the bottom of the garden and he told me to go in and said he would bury it. He buried the dog in the garden at the side of the wall, on the right as one left the house to enter the garden.

Shortly after this the accused went into St. Thomas's Hospital for a stomach operation. He has never said anything to me about the death of my husband or my dog.