Chapter 1: Executing a Killer

As soon as DI William Dodd opened the back door, Keith started mouthing off about the way they’d stopped him and hadn’t read him his rights.

A quick jab into his arm, then he was unconscious and nice and quiet. Tim and William sat in the car for five minutes, checking to see that no one had seen them, then they drove off to the garages.

In the meantime, the search team had executed the search warrant. They had discovered several items to connect Keith to two of the robberies. There was also a bag of cash with some blood on which could be Christine’s blood.

Arriving at the garages, William did another quick check. First, he lifted Keith’s trouser leg, finding green socks. Next, he checked his wrists. He had noticed a tattoo when they had handcuffed him, but he had been otherwise occupied at the time. He confirmed that Keith’s tattoo was on the inside of his right wrist.

Lastly, he checked the soles of his shoes. Finding a trace of what looked like blood on one of them, he removed it to take away. Looking at the picture of the bloody footprint in his phone, it matched.

William was satisfied that Keith was the killer, so they opened the garage, backed up as close as they could, then carried him still unconscious inside. Whilst Tim moved the car and closed the doors, William strapped him down to the table then fitted his gag. He would wait for confirmation that the blood on the money and his shoe was Margery’s and Mr Patel’s before sending the final message.

Tim returned to his other duties, whilst William returned to the station. He had a look through the things the search team had brought back from the girlfriends, all of which were clearly linked to the murder scenes as well as the bag from the first garage attack. Several hours later he got word from forensics to say the blood on the cash was definitely Margery’s from the garage, whilst the trace on the sole of the foot was Mr Patel’s.

He sent a text message on his special phone. ‘Item in stock.’ That was forwarded to Brian. Previously, Brian had also received Keith’s name plus a list of known crimes. Several stabbings, numerous robberies, a stabbing that was nearly a murder plus three murders by stabbing. He had voted accordingly.

When he finished that evening, Brian went to the garages. Closing the outer door quietly, he went through to the inner sanctum. Switching on the light, he saw Keith’s eyes blink in the light then fix on him. He had come to several hours ago. He couldn’t understand where he was and had no idea what was going on.

He had recognised William as a policeman when he was caught so he had been unable to work out why he wasn’t in a nice warm police cell. He was cold, hungry and scared. Now this man he didn’t recognise had arrived. Was this good or bad, he had no idea.

Brian came over and sat on the edge of the table. ‘Well Keith,’ he said, ‘I hear you’ve been a very bad boy. Apart from everything else you have done, you killed three innocent people who were doing you no harm. You came within half an inch of killing the lady you stabbed at the first garage you robbed and the last one you stabbed died later in theatre.’

‘People have become heartily sick of thugs like you, so a new punishment system now exists especially for those as bad as you.’ He paused then continued, ‘Keith Brown,’ he said formally, ‘You have been found unfit to live amongst decent people. A jury of twelve good men has sentenced you to death. I am your executioner.’

‘A look of terror came on Keith’s face, he wasn’t sure whether this was a wind up or what, but either way it was scary.’ ‘What I have to decide,’ Brian continued, ‘Is how you should die. As you have stabbed so many people, it would be quite fitting to execute you with a knife. Like this one,’ he said pulling one almost identical to the one Keith had used from under the table.’

He held it to his ribs and prodded him. ‘If I stabbed you in the right places, you’d bleed to death very slowly and painfully. Not that you wouldn’t deserve it. Then I could stab you in the stomach, once for each of your victims. That would be even more painful. The only problem with both of those is that none of your victims or their relatives would know that you suffered the same as their loved ones.’

‘I know,’ he said, ‘I’ll cut the arm off that you used the knife with. Then I’ll keep that to show them before I dump the rest of your body in the sewer. It should only take you a few hours after the amputation to die in agony.’

Brian threw a piece of six-millimetre cord over one of the pulleys that hung from the roof. This one was above Keith’s left shoulder. Brian tied one end tight around his left wrist then secured the loose end. He undid the strap over his chest, then fed the strap under his left arm before re securing it. Next, he undid the strap around his left wrist. Keith’s left arm was now free, he tried waving it around, but Brian just pulled on the rope until his arm was pointing straight up to the ceiling.

Securing the end so his arm was fixed, he picked up the knife. He saw the terror in Keith’s eyes but took no notice. He cut the sleeve of his top from his left wrist up to his shoulder, then cut all the loose cloth away.

Tearing off a piece of two-inch duct tape three inches long, he stuck it on Keith’s arm a few inches down from his shoulder. Taking a short length of four-millimetre diameter cord, Brian wrapped it once round his arm and did the first half of a surgeon’s knot.

Adjusting it so that the knot was directly over the tape so the knot would slide easily as it tightened, he pulled it as tight as he possibly could, accompanied by some muffled noises from Keith. Finishing off the second half of the knot, he reached up and tested for a pulse on the wrist.

Feeling no pulse, he knew he had cut off the blood supply to the whole arm. ‘Now,’ he said out loud, ‘That tourniquet will stop your blood making a mess. I was going to hack your arm off with the knife seeing you are so fond of using one. But I think a chain saw or a skill saw would be easier.’ Brian let him think about that for a few minutes whilst he went into the third garage to get the small battery powered skill saw off the shelf.

Returning with it, he showed it to Keith saying, ‘This is for all your victims.’ He switched it on, then cut through his suspended arm about three inches above the tourniquet. A few drops of blood oozed out, but very little. The blade in the saw was new and sharp so it went through flesh and bone quickly.

The tourniquet would have numbed the arm quite a bit, but even so it would have been extremely painful. As he started cutting, he saw Keith’s body go rigid, then as he watched the blade going through his arm, he passed out.

Once it was severed, his stump flopped down onto the table leaving his arm swinging loose on the rope. Whilst Keith was unconscious, Brian undid all the straps from his waist upwards, and removed the gag. He pulled him into a sitting position, wedged him upright, then hung a sheet behind him. Taking his severed arm down, he laid it across his waist.

Taking his burner phone out, Brian stood at the bottom of the table and waited. As Keith came round Brian took a series of photo’s which showed him come round. That showed he was still alive when his arm was amputated. He got a picture of the look of horror on his face when he saw his amputated arm. After a couple more, Brian went and sat behind him. Then just as Keith became aware of the excruciating pain in his stump, Brian broke his neck right away.

Undoing the rest of the straps, Brian soon had the body in the bag with the saw blade. After putting it on the trolley, Brian sent the text, ‘Item ready for collection.’ This was duly forwarded to Paul who collected it the following day. The severed arm he put in a black plastic bag, then put that in another black plastic bag.

Brian downloaded his photos into the old computer they had set up in the garage, then printed them out, plus Keith’s name along with the list of his crimes. He printed a separate note saying, “Excellent article last time, enclosed bag is the severed arm, now you know we do as we say, we won’t send you any more of these gory bits, just pictures. Here is a code between you and me JFV (Justice for Victims). If you ever receive any more communications like this one or the first one, if it doesn’t have JFV on it, it’s not from us.