How was it that the death of a great dane in a remote part of the West Country sparked a political scandal and led to the Old Bailey trial of Jeremy Thorpe, then leader of the Liberal Party.  Was a gunman hired to frighten or kill Jeremy Scott who had been a thorn in the side of Thorpe?  Who was involved in this political intrigue?  And was there, as the BBC has since implied, a political cover up to keep the true facts from the public?
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The gunman then turned to the other and said, “Now it is your turn”. Whatever happened next, no-one can be sure, but the gun did not go off. He appeared to struggle with the weapon before getting back into the car and driving off, leaving a dead animal and a distressed owner.

Much more recently, in 2018, the BBC broadcast a three-parter entitled A Very English Scandal – a drama rather than a documentary – which was skilfully dramatized and wonderful entertainment but treated by too many (including at least one of the actor participants) as fact rather than fiction.

The gunman was Andrew “Gino” Newton who stood trial at Exeter Crown Court for possessing a firearm with intent to endanger life. Newton contended that the gunshot which killed the dog was accidental, he had merely intended to frighten Scott, and afterwards he pretended it had jammed before making off. But there was other evidence that showed the gun had a tendency to jam and that it probably jammed on this occasion because Newton was later seen to dismantle and lubricate the weapon.

So how did Jeremy Thorpe come to be associated this this sordid tale?

I can tell you that I had the privilege of sitting next to the witness box throughout the evidence of each and every one of what I can only describe as the motley collection of witnesses who the Crown relied upon. The principal witnesses could either be described as co-conspirators or people who had motives of their own for concealing the truth.

The first was Peter Bessell, a former Liberal Member of Parliament and a bankrupt who fled this country hastily to avoid charges of fraud. He provided the main plank of the prosecution evidence.

Flown back from Oceanside, California, where he then resided, and granted immunity from prosecution in order to testify, a suntanned Bessell strode into Court No 1 in a dark blue pinstripe suit, spectacles on a chain around his neck and dripping with bling. He recounted that Jeremy Thorpe had been so troubled by Norman Scott that he decided to have him killed, and that he, Bessell, was to arrange it with Holmes (Thorpe’s best man).

Only Bessell, Thorpe and Holmes know if some or any of the intricate tale he wove is true. Neither Thorpe nor Holmes gave evidence at trial, and Bessell and Thorpe are now dead.

In the course of cross-examination, Bessell admitted to having debts of £75,000 and agreeing with the Daily Telegraph to serialise a book about the trial for a sum of £50,000, a substantial chunk of which was only due if the defendants were convicted.

Holmes’ counsel, John Mathews QC, and George Carman QC for Thorpe, demonstrated Besell’s capacity for bending the truth on countless occasions. In the words of Carman’s son, Dominic, “Bessell willingly admitted to being a serial liar, a hypocrite, thoroughly amoral, duplicitous, devious and disgraceful.” Bessell admitted that he had a credibility problem.

But the tenor of Bessell’s evidence was that some years ago, before he was leader of the Liberal Party, Thorpe had admitted to him that he was a homosexual. At that time, of course, acts of homosexuality could amount to a criminal offence, and even if it were public knowledge, it would be career limiting for Thorpe. According to Bessell, Thorpe (who by now was leader of the party) indicated he had been having a sexual relationship with Norman Scott who had become such a nuisance that he needed to be rid of him.

For two and a half days Bessell suffered cross-examination from George Carman on behalf of Thorpe.

Didn’t you feel it was your duty to tell the party that its leader was a man intent on murder?

My first loyalty was to Thorpe. I thought it could be prevented. I saw no purpose in seeking to damage his career in that way.

Didn’t you think that Mr Thorpe must have needed to see a psychiatrist?

Yes, I suppose that is true.

Bessell was asked about his financial arrangement with the Daily Telegraph.

Doesn’t it prick your conscience to make a contract to write about someone you have described as a true and faithful friend?

No, sir, it does not. I would not be here if I had not believed it was my responsibility to give evidence which must inevitably, if it is to be believed, contribute towards a conviction.

Does it not prick your conscience to have entered into a contract by which you and your family achieve double the money on the conviction of a former true and loyal friend?

Yes, it does.

You are prepared to betray a friend for money, aren’t you?

I think that is an overstatement.

George Carman proceeded over the course of the day to take Bessell through a long series of lies which he agreed he had told to protect Thorpe from the consequences of his homosexual activities.

Indeed, during his evidence Bessell claimed that Jeremy Thorpe had also wished to murder another individual who was blackmailing him.

Describing Bessell’s account as an Alice in Wonderland Story, Carman added:

If the jury are to believe at all that the leader of the Liberal Party had seriously proposed to you not one but two murders – which I suggest are figments of your imagination – you must have thought you had a ghastly maniac leading the Liberal Party?

Yes, at one stage I thought Mr Thorpe had a crazy, sick obsession about murder.

I thought you said he was a man of the highest political integrity. You cannot lead a political party in the House of Commons and spend your time plotting murders as well and do both jobs properly, can you?

Carman suggested that any conversations between the two of them had been nothing but light-hearted fantasies, and added:

You haven’t left out any other murder proposals, have you? You are not going to tell us about a third or fourth murder proposal tomorrow, are you?

No, sir.

In answer again to George Carman, Bessell said that Norman Scott was a pathetic creature who nearly always had a hard luck story; he tended to exaggerate his misfortunes, and always put the blame for his own weaknesses or misfortunes on someone else. He was also financially dishonest.

When he left the witness box after two and a half days, Bessell’s confidence was drained. His tie hung loosely around his neck, the top button of his neat check shirt was unbuttoned and he appeared a dispirited, bedraggled figure.

Norman’s Scott’s testimony was hardly more inspiring. The lurid details of his contact with Jeremy Thorpe over a number of years, which go only to motive, took the case no further. True or false, however, his enormous outpourings were an enormous embarrassment to Thorpe.

Twice he was rebuked by Mr Justice Cantley for his outbursts from the witness box and at one stage he admitted that he would put himself into contempt of court by refusing to answer further questions.

Thinking better of it, Scott then admitted in cross-examination that he had undergone psychiatric treatment and a compulsory spell of detention in hospital.

Carman asked:

You met Mr Thorpe and talked to him for five minutes or less. He hadn’t written you a single letter before you went to the House of Commons, neither had you written a single letter to Mr Thorpe before that. Why did you say that Mr Thorpe was a friend of yours when all you had ever done was speak to him for less than five minutes?

Because when I had the therapy at the hospital I was going through a delusion and I had these letters. I was using these letters to say that I had had a relationship with him already …

You were saying you had a sexual relationship with Mr Thorpe before you went to the House of Commons?

Yes.

Obviously, that was not true?

No, it wasn’t.

In fairness to you, were you saying it because you were suffering from a delusion?

Yes.

And you had suffered from other delusions, had you not?

Yes.

Why did you lie?

Because I was trying to make myself appear a better person than I was. I cannot explain why.

I pretended I was the son of Lord Eldon.

Do you think – asked Carman – that was a wicked thing?

Yes, I do, but I have done so many wicked things in the past.

The next treat for judge and jury in this unhappy saga was the so-called “hit man” – Andrew Gino Newton who claimed to have accepted a contract to kill Norman Scott from associates of Jeremy Thorpe.

Later described by the judge as a chump and highly incompetent performer, Newton claimed that he lost his nerve. He told the court that there had been an abortive attempt at the Royal Garden Hotel, Kensington, when he hid a cold chisel in a bouquet. That failed because, according to the would-be assassin, Scott never turned up.

He added It was something I did not want to do. It was something I knew from that day on I could not carry out. It was something I had found out about myself as a person.

I wanted to rein in the situation so I hatched an idea to meet Scott and tell him I had been hired to protect him. Then I was going to frighten him with a bungled murder attempt. The plan was to have a firearm, to lure Scott into an open place and to try and shoot him and have the gun jam.

They arranged to meet at a hotel in Combe Martin but Scott turned up with the huge black Dane. They drove to Porlock and the dog came along too. Then Newton claimed to be tired, Scott offered to drive, all three got out of the car and Newton shot the dog. Newton’s explanation of that was:

Once the dog was out of the way I could carry on with the plan of frightening Scott. If I had tried levelling the gun at Scott I could not have been sure that the dog would not have had a go at me. The dog was a monstrous size … so I shot it.

When Scott asked him what he had done to the dog, Newton said he tranquillised it. Then he drove off.

The story Newton gave when tried earlier at Exeter Crown Court was that he intended to fire but miss Scott in order to frighten him but the gun jammed. So he told different stories on different occasions. He also agreed he had devoted himself to negotiating the sale of his story and was resolved to milk the case as hard as he could.

He had been paid £10,950 for interviews with newspapers and television plus £5,000 from Holmes. He agreed that everything he had was for sale.

Only one of the four defendants gave evidence in their own defence. They really had no need to.

In the time between the committal proceedings in the magistrates court at Minehead and the trial at the Old Bailey, Jeremy Thorpe had lost his parliamentary seat.

In his final address to the jury George Carman said that Thorpe was a man who had been brought down by hyenas and jackals.

Privately, he is a man with a life that has had more than its fair share of grief and agony. Nature so fashioned him that at the time he had the misfortune to meet Norman Scott, he was a man with homosexual tendencies. You will recognise from the evidence that a political life and a political future are now irrevocably and irreversibly denied to him.

Carman closed his speech with a flourish:

This case has been fought and considered against the backcloth of British politics. It is important to remind you of your rights in this case.

You have the right as citizens to vote in elections. But you have a much more important right and a much greater responsibility to vote guilty or not guilty. Mr Thorpe has spent 20 years in British politics and obtained thousands and thousands of votes in his favour. Now the most precious 12 votes of all come from you. In accordance with your conscience, I say to you, on behalf of Jeremy Thorpe this prosecution has not been made out. Let this prosecution fold its tent and quietly creep away.

It is hardly surprising that the jury acquitted each defendant. It may be – we shall never know – that one or more of the defendants decided the time had come when Scott had to be frightened off. The evidence may admit that possibility. But the crimes alleged were those of inciting and conspiring to murder, and the Crown was a million miles away from being able to prove the charges.

Neither is it surprising that Norman Scott, who is now 81, is still talking to those who will listen and giving interviews. According to a fairly recent newspaper report he is now alleging five different attempts to kill him. Ben Whishaw, the talented actor who played Scott in the BBC dramatisation went to see Scott, and according to reports he was sucked-in too.

People love a conspiracy of one sort or another. At the time of the BBC airing there was wide talk of an establishment cover-up. The Evening Standard reported “it was widely believed at the time that the trial was rigged.” Really! That is a staggering allegation. You only have to examine the evidence to think otherwise, and the trial verdicts were those of a jury of twelve ordinary men and women, not establishment appointees.

Tom Mangold, who made a BBC documentary for Panorama which was not aired at the time because of the acquittals, also emerged from the woodwork with, would you believe it, a copy of the programme which he kept for himself (no doubt hoping that one day there would be a buck to be made for its publication). It did not add one jot to the credibility of what we already knew.

Then the BBC reported that Gwent police had reopened the investigation because, although it was widely believed that Newton had died, it was now believed that he was alive and living under a different name.

This was a man who had been granted immunity from prosecution 40 years before. He was, on his own version, a co-conspirator and had been thoroughly discredited.

Someone at Gwent rapidly thought better of it, and the idea was dropped.

Mr Justice Cantley who presided over the trial has been criticised for being an establishment man and favouring the accused. But he did no more than one would expect of any judge trying a case properly, and it is difficult to imagine the outcome of this trial would have been other than the same before a different judge; ultimately, the verdict was the jury’s alone.

It has to be remembered that this was a case which went through a full old-fashioned style committal with evidence first being heard in the Magistrates’ Court at Minehead in the full glare of publicity. The prosecution witnesses were called and cross-examined. On balance, the magistrates found there was a case to send for trial at the Old Bailey.

There then took place what was called at the time the trial of the century over the course of several weeks. No stone was left unturned.

If nothing else, this was a public demonstration of British justice.

It reminds us of the landmark case of Woolmington v DPP where Viscount Sankey said:

Throughout the web of English Criminal Law one golden thread is always to be seen: that it is the duty of the prosecution to prove the prisoner’s guilt. If, at the end, and on the whole of the case, there is a reasonable doubt, created by the evidence given by either prosecution or the prisoner … the prosecution has not made out the case and the prisoner is entitled to an acquittal. No matter what the charge or where the trial, the principle that the prosecution must prove the guilt of the prisoner is part of the common law of England and no attempt to whittle it down can be entertained.