'It's just - I need you to...
promise me something, Tabitha erm...
You see, I've... I've done something rather silly.
And it might sound bad - might sound very bad even -
but it's not what it seems.
Not at all. It's not what it seems
and um...just needs a little bit of clearing up, that's all, so...
That's why I need you to promise me.
I need you to promise me that you won't tell the police.
There you go. Can you promise me that, Tabitha?
Er, because I can't...
I can't let Susan down. Do you understand?
She's very, er, fragile. Yeah.'
'(VEHICLE ENGINE REVVING)'
'Dear Chris...
I've managed to get hold of a pen and some paper
and so I thought I'd write you a letter.
There's so much I want to say to you, Chris,
and maybe, one day, we'll see each other again
and I'll be able to do it.
Perhaps a little better than I feel able to now.
You see, I never cared about being shut out from the real world...
..because I never felt like I was allowed to arrive here in the first place.
I'm not here, anyway, am I?
So, what's the difference?
What's the difference between here and somewhere else in my head?
But I see it now. That it was different for you.
You had a place in that world... and then you met me.
So, I just wanted to say that I understand.
I will love you always... but I understand.
Yours, Susan.'
Wait there. I'll be back in minute.
What? Chris. Where are you going? I'll be back before you know it. Just hold tight.
..and buried them in the rear garden of their own house.
They then set about concealing both the deaths and the burials
for the next 15 years.
But the story that Susan and Christopher have concocted
is a fantasy.
It is not the truth.
Over the course of this trial, we will demonstrate that Susan and Christopher Edwards
are not only audacious and unrepentant liars,
they are cold-blooded killers who, with forethought and malice,
jointly agreed to murder and conceal the bodies
of the helpless Patricia and William Wycherley.
Thank you.
Good morning, officers.
My step-son left this letter on my porch early this morning.
'Decomposition begins almost immediately...
and after three or four days in a warm environment, the corpse
enters a new phase of decay which we refer to as putrefaction or bloat.'
The microorganisms digesting body tissue produce gases
which cause the body to swell - most visibly in the face,
where the eyes and tongue are pushed forward, often quite grotesquely.
And these gases are extremely foul-smelling.
We've all had the misfortune of smelling "off" chicken.
Now imagine two chickens, each the size of a human body.
'In many cases, it induces nausea and vomiting.'
So what are the chances, would you say,
of Christopher and Susan Edwards entering a tiny house,
where two adult corpses had lain for nearly a week
in temperatures of up to 23 degrees Celsius,
and not immediately smelling them?
Nil.
Yah!
Dr Dickson, in the Edwards' interviews,
they repeatedly stated that William Wycherley's limbs and torso were "stiff".
What would account for that? Rigor mortis.
Biochemical changes in a dead body
that lead to a stiffening of the muscles.
Is rigor mortis permanent?
No. Without refrigeration, it dissipates
approximately three days after death.
So, could William Wycherley's body have been stiff
six days after he was killed?
It is highly improbable.
Yet, both Chris and Susan contend that it was stiff
when they buried it.
Their timescale must be mistaken.
They must have buried William within three days of death.
When Mr Edwards maintains he was still in London?
Yes.
Here.
Whoa. Whoa.
With a double-action revolver like this...
the trigger action has two phases.
The first part of your squeeze, which takes quite a bit of effort.
I think you can see the strain on my finger.
What's happening is the hammer is being pulled back
into firing position and, at the same time,
the cylinder is advancing a fresh bullet into the chamber.
Requires quite a deliberate effort to discharge every bullet.
So not the kind of trigger that you could pull by mistake, then?
'Not easily, no.
It's a gun. It's not a toy.'
'And the other thing to consider here
is that the bullet strikes on the bones
are also extremely similar in both victims...
and suggests they were facing the gun.'
'What would your overall conclusion be, taking all that into account?'
My working assumption would be that the same shooter
discharged all four bullets,
which is to say that both William and Patricia
were most likely killed by the same person,
and that he or she was probably familiar with this sort of weapon.
It's not like this is the biggest gun in the world but it's still quite serious.
Do you know what I mean? No further questions, My Lady.
I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give...
..shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
What sort of films did Gary Cooper star in, Mr Edwards?
He was a Hollywood actor in the '40s and '50s,
is that correct? And '60s, yes.
And '60s. Yes, thank you for clarifying.
He was, er, principally known for Westerns.
But he played a wide range of characters -
romantic leads, comedies, soldiers.
And, er, of course,
he once played baseball player Lou Gehrig in Pride Of The Yankees.
But isn't it true, Chris,
that you and your wife loved stories about the Wild West?
About gunslingers and outlaws?
Well, Susan was the Gary Cooper fan.
And it was all perfectly harmless.
Members of the jury, please refer to document EL-96.
This is an invoice from 2009,
for an authenticated Gary Cooper letter costing £2,700.
You spent £2,700 on a Gary Cooper letter
despite being on the verge of bankruptcy?
It was a gift for Susan.
And we were not on the verge of bankruptcy.
Mr Edwards, when you and your wife
were arrested on your return from France,
you had nothing but a few coins between you.
The only personal belongings you had were a few signed photos and books.
You personally have a correspondence with the actor Gerard Depardieu.
So, it is preposterous to suggest that you were not a participant
in this world of overblown heroes and Hollywood stars and guns.
If you wanna get into the detail - Listen to my question -
Well, now you're interrupting my answer.
You owned a gun of the same calibre
as the one that shot your in-laws, didn't you?
At one time I owned a revolver that was capable of taking
.38-calibre cartridges, yes.
You had .38-calibre cartridges.
Not in May 1998, I didn't.
I had neither cartridges nor firearms. I had sold them.
Your wife hates guns, doesn't she?
She certainly doesn't like them.
You told the police she was terrified of them.
That she wouldn't even touch one at the firing range.
That's correct. She's generally very fragile.
Another thing we haven't spent -
What about you, Chris?
You like guns, don't you?
I'm interested in guns.
I am interested in military history and guns are simply a part of that.
Chris, could we just clarify something for the jury?
You used to fire such weapons, didn't you? Quite often?
Not often, no, because the er...
the club where I did my shooting was in Earl's Court.
So, from Dagenham, I had to change trains twice,
so by the time I got home, it was very late.
And then after Susan moved in, it started to feel like I...
Well, it wasn't worth it any more, so I sold the guns
and surrendered my firearms certificate
and that was in September 1995.
But before you lived with Susan, you would've happily made the journey?
Yes. So, what changed?
Susan didn't like me being away from home for too long unless it was for work.
Or she didn't like me being away from HER, perhaps I should say.
But you enjoyed this hobby, didn't you?
Yes.
Did you feel like it was your choice
to stop making that journey, or did Susan make you do it?
Um... It was... It was mutual.
And when you buried the bodies, was that your choice?
Or did Susan make you do it?
It was erm... Was it mutual?
Yes.
And when you phoned your step-mother
to tell her about the bodies in the garden,
that was YOUR choice, wasn't it?
That was a choice you made independently without Susan.
And that is why we are all here today, isn't it?
You must have been in a great deal of pain and discomfort
to choose this over what you could've had in France, with Susan.
I made a choice to marry Susan because I loved her...
..and since then I've been living Susan's life with her.
My life didn't really come into it. It wasn't important any more.
Chris.
Huh?
'Would you be able to show us, Chris, how to fire a gun?
A .38, for example?'
Well, there are many styles.
My training was in something called "precision target shooting".
You begin with a pistol in front of you, unloaded.
And let's say the target is erm... well, where My Ladyship is.
And you take your position, bringing up the hand
to make sure you're pointing naturally in that direction.
Take out the pistol, fit it to the hand very precisely
cos you need to get a consistency of grip.
In the case of a revolver, you put the cartridges into it and then close it.
Take a couple of gentle, deep breaths.
And then raise...the pistol.
Breathe out...
..both eyes open.
And what you're looking for...
is something they call the "surprise break"...
..which is when the shot goes off without you even thinking about it.
Here, take this. What do I do with it?
Aargh! Move forward!
Just run, Susan! Go! No!
I'll take care of this. Just go now! No! Not without you.
Susan, I'm begging you!
Just do it! No! Not without you!
I'll find you.
Susan, I'm begging you. Just run! I'll be all right.
How did they know we'd be here?
Chris? How did they know?
Susan...
Susan! What are you doing?
Aargh!
'Would you mind speaking up, please, Mrs Edwards.
It's quite hard to hear what you're saying.'
'I can't remember clearly, erm...
She had just killed my father,
and she was saying those dreadful things to me,
and at some point I just...'
'You pulled the trigger?' 'Yes.'
Louder, please, Mrs Edwards. Yes, I pulled the trigger.
But as we heard from our expert, such an action would have required
two separate applications of force, not hair trigger, but deliberate.
Enough to cock it and fire the gun. Twice. Bang-bang.
You did that?
I... I don't know exactly how I did it.
I've spent 16 years trying to forget what happened.
All I know is I was provoked.
Did you even look to see if you could help your father
when you saw he'd been shot?
No, I didn't want to look at my father.
It... It was frightening.
Perhaps you might be able to tell me a little about the brass casings
that you told the police you saw on the floor
and that you disposed of with the gun.
Erm...there were casings.
Erm blastings. I... I don't know, I saw them.
And what did you do with the gun? To dispose of it?
I wrapped it up along with the casings that I...
that were on the floor,
and I put it in a bag, and then I took it into town and I...
put it in an empty rubbish bin
so that other things would be put on top.
A rubbish bin? In the middle of the street?
Yeah, it was the Tuesday after bank holiday.
Then you went directly from the rubbish bin to the bank,
which we've already discussed. Where did you go after the bank?
I returned to the house
after buying some air fresheners.
Oh, you bought air fresheners?
Yes, about 20 of them.
Cos I...I thought the bodies might start to smell
and...and the house already stank of smoke and nicotine,
and I hated that smell.
You've never mentioned the air fresheners to the police
and yet after Dr Dickson's very vivid description
of how a body decomposes, suddenly you bought 20 of them.
I did... I forgot. I didn't think it was important.
Did you know, Mrs Edwards,
that a revolver of this type does not discharge casings?
Did you know that? No.
Could you speak up please, Mrs Edwards, so we can all hear you?
Sorry. No. You didn't know.
But if you had fired the gun, you would've seen
it produced no casings, wouldn't you,
and you wouldn't have made them up.
Isn't it a pity that you didn't go over that detail with your husband before the arrest?
No, they... I saw them.
They would not have become part of your story, would they?
No, they were there. They were there on the floor.
And can you tell me why you wrapped your parents' bodies
in duvet covers, Mrs Edwards?
To hide them, to make it as if it hadn't happened.
Cos I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to look at them.
Is that also why you destroyed the photographs, the letters,
the diaries, that you burned outside your apartment in France,
as we heard from the defence?
The intention there isn't to preserve
the memory of your parents, is it?
That's you trying to wipe your parents off the face of the Earth.
It wasn't enough that they were dead.
You had to burn all trace that they had ever existed.
And they are not here to defend themselves, are they?
I don't - The victims of these shootings,
what would they have told us, do you think?
What would be their side - of the story? - Please.
You have painted them in the worst possible light.
You were their daughter, weren't you, their only daughter?
No, they said I was a mistake and they said they never wanted to get married,
they wouldn't have, if Mum hadn't got pregnant.
They hated each other and they didn't want me.
But they must have loved you on some level, they were your parents.
No, no, cos I'm... I'm impossible to love.
Mrs Edwards?
I'm impossible to love.
That's what my mother would say to me all the time
and it's true...
I... I know now that it's true.
Would you like to take a break, Mrs Edwards,
if you're having a bit of a fragile moment?
No.
I'm not fragile.
I'm broken.
So, you can't hurt me.
You can send me to prison and you can all laugh at me
and you can make me look like a piece of dirt
in front of all these people but I'm broken so you can't hurt me.
No-one can hurt me any more.
Chris!
'(GUNSHOT)'
Do you want to get an ice cream cone?
Yeah. Yeah. Oh, I'm gonna get strawberry.
'There's not much we can do about it now, is there?'
I did have one thought, though...
..that maybe we should've told the barrister or I should have told you
about Gerard Depardieu.
I've never told anyone this before.
Are you sure you wanna tell me?
So, just after Chris's brother passed away,
I wrote to Gerard Depardieu, asking for a signed photo
cos I thought it would cheer Chris up.
He didn't know anything about films or France when we got together.
But, er, somehow, he did know about Gerard Depardieu.
'And then, eventually, after a few weeks of waiting,
I decided I would write back to Chris
pretending to be Gerard Depardieu.
I practised his signature until I got it just right.
And I practised his handwriting.
And I put in spelling mistakes and things,
you know, so it looked like it was written by a French person.
Well, it worked. He bought it.'
And it made him so happy...
that I just kept doing it.
I kept writing to him, pretending I was Gerard Depardieu.
And then Chris would write back, all excited.
But he never knew that I was behind it all.
Er, where was he sending the letters?
Oh, well, I thought of all that too.
So, the first one went to erm... Apartment 16,
Rue Madam Zephirine, 75014 Paris.
And then there was an address in Belgium.
And later on, there was an address in Russia.
But I just made them all up.'
Bye, love!
Have a nice day!
'Cos it didn't matter where they ended up.
I always read his letters before he sent them,
so I knew exactly how to reply.
And you might think that Chris would become suspicious
those letters had London postmarks, but they didn't.
Because I had a franking machine!
Just had to pick a few well chosen words in the right language
and hey, presto.'
'Wow...and you did all that just to make Chris happy.'
'I think, even if I told him, he wouldn't believe me.'
"Good morning, I'm Gerard Depardieu."
"No, you're not Gerard Depardieu -
you're a librarian from Harlesden, for crying out loud!"
Least, I don't think he knew.
Mm.
It wouldn't have helped, would it?
Mm-mm.
I get you, Susan.
I don't know why I get you, but I get you.
And I find that story really sweet.
That you would do something like that for him.
But other people...
Yeah. ..might not get it.
I just think it wouldn't have played, that's all,
because you're on trial.
Anything weird, anything that isn't just "normal",
will make people assume - They'll think I'm bad news.
And I hate that, by the way.
Because...
..I like that you're you.
Honestly, I... I honestly think I will carry this experience with me
for the rest of my life because...
..you know what, you're right, Susan.
I'm lucky.
It's not the same for me.
And you've helped me to appreciate that.
Not because you're unlucky. I don't mean it like that, though.
Or maybe I DO mean it like that. I... I... I dunno.
I'm not saying that has to define you
or that it's even the reason why we're here right now in court but...
..they should have looked after you, Susan.
They were your parents. You were seven years old.
Do you know how tall a seven-year-old is? This tall.
This tall.
So, er... I'm still learning.
Maybe I could have done a better job for you.
I don't know.
I tried my best, I really did.
But I just wanted to make sure that you understand
that whatever happens today...
..there's a lot that has happened in your life
that is not on you.
But given that you left home in your early twenties...
..15 years before the murders,
I cannot accept that his conduct
explains your decision to kill him.
You thought your parents had deprived you of an inheritance
that was rightfully yours.
I am sure it was you, Christopher Edwards, who held the gun.
But I have no doubt that you were acting together,
and I see no reason to distinguish between you on sentence.
Can you imagine ever, like, actually murdering someone?
I can imagine it, yeah.
I don't think I'd ever do it, though.
Why? Are you thinking of trying it? Bit of murder?
Just trying to imagine actually having a gun
and pointing it at your... Your mum and dad.
Yeah. So fucked up.
It's sad.
Yeah. I guess so.
I threatened me dad once...
..when he'd been at me mum.
I sat on it for a bit.
There was no point me trying anything when he was pissed
cos he'd just kick the shit out of me.
But a few days later, when he was watching telly,
I got an axe from the garage
and I went up to the sofa and I said...
.."If you touch Mum again...
..I'll chop your fucking head off."
Jesus.
How old were you?
12.
Then what happened?
He left.
Shit, man.
Sorry.
Don't fucking hug me, you twat.
OK. That's not...
Just offering you a hug. Sorry. Pervert.
Fuck off. Why would I try it on after a story like that? That's mad.
When WOULD you do it, then? I don't know.
I'd just ask you out for a drink, whenever.
Right.
In what way?
Well, in that way, if you're asking.
Are you asking?
Yeah, all right I'm asking.
No, I don't think so. Sorry.
What?
I would in theory. But...not in practice.
Maybe in, like, ten years. Just before my eggs start to dry up.
Shall we go for a drink just as friends, then?
Or as partners even?
I need a bit more than a drink. It's been quite an intense few days.
Oh, well, like what? Like a fuck.
No, not with you. Don't get any ideas.
You're a sensitive lad, I can tell.
It'll get a bit complicated and then it'll go a bit... Chris and Susan.
But I'm not gonna offer to kill your dad for ya.
I'm not asking you to. We're going to the pub.
You're gonna be my wingman.
Fucking wingman? Yeah.
Fuck off.
Chop, chop.
'Dear Susan, thank you for your letters,
which I have been very grateful to receive.
I'm sorry it's taken me so long to reply.
The first pen I received was very scratchy
and I wanted you to be able to read what I was saying.
So I waited to be furnished with the brand of implement
I originally asked for, which I'm happy to say is working much better.
In answer to your question about Tabitha, the truth is, Susan,
that I don't entirely know why I did that.
But I do think that, on some level, you are right.
I felt like I was struggling,
and I needed to ask somebody for help,
something that, traditionally speaking, I have not been very good at.
I think, though, that you're wrong about how I felt, in other ways.
Because I never felt like I had to leave the real world behind
to be with you, Susan.
If anything, you are the person who made the world feel real to me.
It wasn't you who made me feel trapped, Susan.
It was me.'
'In the movies, there are the good guys and there are the bad guys.
And I think we will have to accept that, for most people,
we will always be the bad guys.
But we love each other, Susan.
And nobody can take that away from us.
Yours forever and always...
..Gerard Depardieu.'
Ah, there you are!
Come with me, please.
Checks, please.
Stand by.
Roll sound.
Sound rolling!
All right, let's do this.
Roll camera! Rolling!
Ladies and gentlemen, are you all set?
And...action!
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