One Incontrovertible, Unequivocal, Undeniable Fact Which Refutes the Diary

[Iconoclast]

13-year-old? Wet weekend? Is that someone's suggestion, Ike?

I'm not surprised that you embrace Dr. Forshaw's quote, though.

It must be a great consolation to believe that if you've been bamboozled, you've been bamboozled by someone extremely clever.

Well, you know what they say, RJ, it takes one to know one, and I know that Dr Forshaw himself was extremely clever.

Surely I do not have to draw your attention to Sam Flynn's log ago throwaway claim that the Victorian scrapbook was so shabby that it could have been knocked-up over one wet weekend by some acne-ridden schoolboy of 13?

It even finds its way (twice!) into Bruce Robinson's epic They All Love Ike, for goodness sake!

[Iconoclast]

Saying the diary could have written the diary doesn't indicate a belief that it was written by a 13 year-old. For my part, I believe that it was written by somebody much older, albeit with the mindset of someone much younger - and the writing ability to match.

Quite honestly, I could have done a damn sight better job of the "diary" when I was aged 11. Therefore, the notion that a 13 year-old could have written it is not a "ridiculous suggestion" by any means.

Okay, maybe Flynn said '11'.

It was a long time ago, after all ...

[rjpalmer]

Folks, I just noticed this posted at the 'other place.'

But if the Tilly letter can be proven categorically to be authentic, then 'Go Tilly letter', say I!

And if the Eddowe's shawl is ever proven categorically to contain the DNA of Aaron Kosminski, then 'Go Aaron', say I too!

There you have it. Tom 'Iconoclast' Mitchell has given us guidance.

If these relics can be authenticated, then we can and should take them seriously. Until then, we don't need to give them any more time of day than Ike does.

As such, this thread can now be mothballed because its inherent logic is the opposite of this principle.

In 30 years, the diary has never been authenticated. Indeed, Robert Smith had the embarrassing task of pasting thousands of stickers over the original subtitle of the Diary of Jack the Ripper which read--'The Discovery/The Investigation/The Authentication'--with the cringingly submissive replacement: "Is it Genuine? Read the Evidence and Decide for yourself."

And the public did decide.

All they had to do was peel back Smith's sticker and see what was hidden underneath. The diary hadn't been authenticated.

It was no more worthy of our attention that the Tilly letter or the Eddowes' shawl are worthy of Ike's attention--until they are authenticated.

Thank God that's settled. We don't need to discuss the diary anymore.

I appreciate Tom's guidance and his wisdom on this. It's been a long journey getting here.

And if Tom ever bellyaches in the future for not giving the diary the respect he thinks it deserves, just remind him of his above comment.

[Iconoclast]

I note that - over on t'other place - Trevor Marriott is once again showing his ignorance of the case by claiming to have no knowledge of Mike Barrett’s original affidavit sworn on April 26, 1993. Well, Trevor, here it is …

AFFIDAVIT
OF
MICHAEL BARRETT

Morecroft Dawson & Garnetts
Solicitors
Queen Building
8 Dale Street
Liverpool
L2 4TQ

RBJ/LMR

I MICHAEL BARRETT of 12 Goldie Street Anfield Liverpool L4 4HS MAKE OATH and say as follows:-
1. I make this Affidavit with regard to the provenance of a Diary dated the 3rd day of Mary [sic] 1889 and signed “Jack the Ripper”.
2. In September 1988 my daughter, Caroline, started at St. John’s School, Fountains Road, Kirkdale, Liverpool. As my wife works in Liverpool City Centre during the day, I used to collect Caroline from the School, and I formed the habit of taking a drink at a local public house known as “The Saddle” before picking Caroline up from School. It was at this Public House that I first met Tony Devereux who was then aged about 57 and was retired, having been made redundant from his job at the Liverpool Daily Post and Echo some years previously.
3. Over the following three years we became the best of friends. During this period he told me as much about his life, including how his wife had left him for a younger man and his bitter feelings concerning this, and how at one stage he had nearly drunk himself to death. We exchanged many pieces of personal anecdote, and developed a trusting relationship.
4. Just before Christmas 1990 Tony slipped on ice outside his house at 37 Fountains Road, fracturing his hip. This incapacitated him, and caused him great pain for the next few months. Each school day I used to call at his house to see him, bringing him any items he required, such as his daily groceries. Somewhere around March 1991 he went into hospital for a hip replacement, and remained in considerable pain on his return from hospital. I continued to call in and see him and bring him his requirements. Eventually he recovered from the pain and developed mobility to the extent that he was finally able to walk, with the help of sticks., to The Saddle for a drink.
5. It was during the period of his recovery from the operation that I first met his three daughters, who all lived on Merseyside but almost never visited him. Tony had mentioned them to me in the past, but it was only following the operation that they started to visit.
6. During the Summer of 1991 Tony’s health began to deteriorate, to the extent that on one occasion when I called to see him at his house I received no answer when I knocked on the door, which caused me to worry for him as I knew that he would normally be at home then. I spoke to his next door neighbours, who allowed me to go through their house into the back garden and climb over the wall to see if he was alright. I had to knock repeatedly on the back window to wake him up from the deep sleep into which he had fallen due, I found out later, to the many tablets he was taking. A week or two later he was taken into hospital again as his body was reacting to the many tablets which he had been taking. On his return from hospital he seemed a great deal better, and as usual I carried on dropping in at his house to see him each day on my way to Caroline’s school.
6. [sic] When I called round one afternoon in, I think, the beginning of July 1991, Tony told me that he had something to give me, and handed me a brown paper parcel. He said, and I remember this almost verbatim: “This is for you because you are the only ******* one who has not asked for anything in the time that I have known you”. He then went on to tell me that he owned his own house, but he had money in the Bank and that he felt that some of his family (unspecified) were like vultures waiting for him to die. I told him not to be so cynical, but he would not agree with me. He then went on to say (as he had said many times before) how he hated his ******* wife. I was so used to him sounding off that I did not pay any particular attention.
7. That afternoon when I returned home after collecting Caroline from school, I opened the parcel which he had given me, finding inside it a large handwritten ledger. I began to try and read it (I say try, because some of the handwriting was difficult to read), and then turned to the last entry in the diary and laughed, as it was signed “Yours truly, Jack the Ripper”.
8. I telephoned Tony straight way [sic] and said “who are you trying to kid?”. His reply was more or less as follows: “I am not, and I will see you tomorrow”. He would not say any more, so I had no choice but to wait and see him the next day. The following day when I visited I asked him several times about the Diary, to the extent that he told me that I was “getting on his ******* nerves”. His last word on the subject was (more or less): “I have given it to you because you are my only mate and I know that you will do something with it”. I asked him one more question before he lost his patience with me and that was “who else knows about it?”. He told me: “Absolutely no ******* bugger alive today”.
9. Tony died two months later in Fazakerley Hospital following a massive heart attack. Although I had asked him on several occasions where he had got the diary from, he always refused to tell me, without giving any reason.

SWORN at Liverpool in the
County of Merseyside this
26th April [handwritten] day of 1993 [Signed by Michael Barrett]

Before me,

[Signed by D. A. Walker]

Solicitor/Commissioner for Oaths

Note: Dead men don’t tell lies. Tonys [sic] words. A fact, simple as that. And I go to my grave stating it. Mike [Note in Michael Barrett’s handwriting]

[Iconoclast]

I also note that - over on t'other place - Trevor Marriott is parroting the trope that Mike Barrett's affidavit of January 5, 1995 - in which he described how he created the text of the Victorian scrapbook - has never been materially contradicted. He asks for any details that are 'unproven' (by this, I think he means 'contradicted' or 'errors'). There's a few definite errors in there (mainly around dates - Barrett is allowed to quote any dates he wants and still be telling the 'truth') and a long list of unproven claims. For the record, the careful reader will note that 'unproven' here could easily be taken to equate with 'unproven, therefore possibly made up'.

From the '25 (current draft, subject to change):

Nineteen ninety-five began still in pantomime season. The main event itself was reserved for Thursday, January 5, 1995 when Michael Barrett signed an affidavit in which he described in detail who had been involved in the creation of the document and how they had gone about perpetrating the fraud. The reader ought to reflect – as they read – on the degree to which Barrett’s many claims therein have been verified by any substantiating evidence relative to how much supposition is required to make his affidavit even barely credible, as well as recalling Alan Gray’s instruction to Barrett in Liverpool Royal Infirmary on December 10, 1994, that “we’ll need a lot of detail, you know”.
Printed as typed (though it is unlikely to have been typed by Barrett himself), pertinent comments are added throughout in order to guide the reader around what may not be true never mind not categorically proven:

I MICHAEL BARRETT, make oath and state as follows:-
That I am an Author by occupation [not proven by any evidence bar Shirley Harrison’s The Diary of Jack the Ripper in which Barrett shared the royalties if nothing else; as well as sixteen interviews and articles in Celebritymagazine between Christmas 1986 and mid-August 1988, along with a handful of puzzles published in the children’s magazine Look-In also in the late 1980s] and a former Scrap Metal Merchant [never actually proven but a detail which does not ordinarily lend itself to the sort of document purportedly created by him]. I reside alone at 12 Goldie Street, Liverpool, L4 4HS, and at this time I am incapacitated due to an accident., for which I am attending Hospital as an out-patient. I have this day been informed that it may be neccessary for them to amputate two of the fingers on my right hand [this did not prove to be necessary].
Since December 1993 [unproven]I have been trying, through the press, the Publishers, the Author of the Book, Mrs Harrison, and my Agent Doreen Montgomery to expose the fraud of ' The Diary of Jack the Ripper ' ("the diary") [Barrett’s first recorded claim to this effect came in late June 1994].
Nobody will believe me [given Barrett’s chronic history of changing his story and blatantly lying, this should not be seen as a criticism of anyone who did not wholeheartedly believe every word he ever said] and in fact some very influential people in the Publishing and Film world have been doing everything to discredit me [the reader might wish to consider whether any such discrediting was actually reasonable based upon the evidence available] and in fact they have gone so far as to introduce a new and complete story of the original facts of the Diary and how it came to light [this is patently false – the new provenance consisted of an extended version of his own provenance and was introduced by his estranged wife, Anne, in July 1994, and only after Barrett himself had first claimed to have hoaxed the diary with her help].
The facts of this matter are outlined as follows:-
I Michael Barratt was the author of the original diary of 'Jack the Ripper' [unproven] and my wife, Anne Barrett, hand wrote it from my typed notes and on occasions at my dictation [unproven], the details of which I will explain in due course.
The idea of the Diary came from discussion between Tony Devereux, Anne Barrett my wife and myself [unproven], there came a time when I believed such a hoax was a distinct possibility. We looked closely at the background of James Maybrick [unproven] and I read everything to do with the Jack the Ripper matter [unproven]. I felt Maybrick was an ideal candidate for Jack the Ripper. Most important of all, he could not defend himself. He was not 'Jack the Ripper' of that I am certain [another of Barrett’s later deviations was that he believed James Maybrick was Jack the Ripper and that Barrett had created the scrapbook in order to ‘prove’ this – he did not explain what had led him to draw this remarkable conclusion], but, times, places, visits to London and all that fitted. It was to easey.
I told my wife Anne Barrett, I said, "Anne I'll [unproven] write a best seller here, we can't fail”.
Once I realised we could do it. We had to find the necessary materials, paper, pens and ink. I gave this serious consideration.
Roughly round about January, February 1990 Anne Barrett and I finally decided to go ahead and write the Diary of Jack the Ripper [unproven]. In fact Anne purchased a Diary, a red leather backed Diary for £25.00p [Anne ultimately paid for an 1891 diary which Barrett had ordered], she made the purchase through a firm in the 1986 Writters Year Book, I cannot remember their name [H.P. Bookfinders, who subsequently claimed they did not advertise in this publication and evidence shows that they did not], she paid for the Diary by cheque in the amount of £25 [on May 18, 1992 - see Appendix 10] which was drawn on her Lloyds Bank Account, Water Street Branch, Liverpool [proven]. When this Diary arrived in teh post I decided it was of no use [depends entirely upon the reason for purchasing it and this reason is unproven], it was very small. My wife is now in possession of this Diary [proven – she posted it on request to researcher Keith Skinner] in fact she asked for it specifically recently when I saw her at her home address 111Delamore Street, Liverpool, 4 [unproven, but possibly true].
At about the same time as all this was being discussed by my wife and I. I spoke to William Graham about our idea [unproven]. This was my wifes father and he said to me, its a good idea, if you can get away[unproven] with it and in fact he gave me £50 towards expences [unproven] which I expected to pay at least for the appropriate paper should I find it.
I feel sure it was the end of January 1990 when I went to the Auctioneer, Outhwaite & Litherland, Fontenoy Street, Liverpool, 3[unproven].
It was about 11.30am in the morning when I attended at the Auctioneers. I found a photograph Album which contained approximately, approximately 125 pages of photographs[unproven]. They were old photographs and they were all to do with the 1914/1918 1st World War. This Album was part of lot No.126 [unproven] which was for auction with a 'brass compass' [unproven], it looked to me like a 'seaman's Compass', it was round faced with a square encasement, all of which was brass, it was marked on the face, North South, East and West in heavy lettering. I particularly noticed that the compass had no 'fingers'.
When the bidding stated I noticed another man who was interested in the itmes he was smartly dressed, I would say in his middle forties, he was interested in the photographs. I noticed that his collar and tie were imaculate and I think he was a Military man.
This man bid up to £45 and then I bid £50 and the other man dropped out.
At this stage I was given a ticket on which was marked the item number and the price I had bid. I then had to hand this ticket over to the Office and I paid £50. This ticked was stamped. A woman, slim build, aged about 35/40 years dealt with me and she asked me my name, which I gave as P Williams, Allerton Street, Liverpool, L17 [unproven, no record]. I think I gave the number as 47. When I was asked for details about me the name Williams arose because I purchased my house from a Mr P Williams, the road name I used is in fact the next street to my mums address, 17 Buckland Street, Liverpool, L17 [purely for the record, this would make the street Allington Street not Allerton Street].
I then returned to the Auction Room with my stamped ticket and handed it over to an assistant, a young man, who gave me the Lot I had purchased.
I was then told to return return my ticket to the Office [this is a patent construction by Barrett – it is inconceivable that the customer would be asked to return a ticket to an office when the staff member could so much more easily have spiked it, to be returned later to the office by him en masse], but I did not do this and left with the Photograph Album and Compass.
When I got the Album and Compass home, I examined it closely, inside the front cover I noticed a makers stamp mark, dated 1908 or 1909 to remove this without trace I soaked the whole of the front cover in Linseed Oil, once the oil was absorbed by the front cover, which took about 2 days to dry out [depending upon what Barrett meant by ‘soaked’, it is inconceivable that it would have dried out in just two days, and would almost certainly have been badly warped by it]. I even used the heat from the gas oven to assist in the drying out [unproven science].
I then removed the makers seal which was ready to fall off [unproven]. I then took a 'Stanley Knife' and removed all the photographs, and quite a few pages [unproven].
I then made a mark 'kidney' shaped, just below centre inside the cover with the Knife [unproven].
This last 64 pages inside the Album which Anne and I decided would be the Diary [there were eighty pages left extant in the scrapbook, sixty-three of which consist of the text]. Anne and I went to town in Liverpool and in Bold Street I bought three pens [unproven], that would hold fountain nibs, the little brass nibs. I bought 22 brass nibs at about 7p to 12p, a variety of small brass nibs, all from the 'Medice' art gallery [unproven].
This all happened late January 1990 [unproven] and on the same day that Anne and I bought the nibs we then decided to purchase the ink elsewhere and we decided to make our way to the Bluecoat Chambers [unproven], in fact we had a drink in the Empire Pub in Hanover Street on the way [a wonderful touch here – the Empire pub is indeed en routefrom Bold Street to The Bluecoat (the Bluecoat Chambers as was in 1992)].
Anne Barrett and I visited the Bluecoat Chambers Art shop and we purchased a small bottle of Diamine Manuscript ink [according to Linder et al. [4, p168], on October 30, 1995, Alec Voller - research chemist for Diamine ink – ‘gave his considered opinion that the ink used in the Diary was notDiamine]. I cannot remember the exact price of the Ink. I think it was less than a pound.
We were now ready to go and start the Diary. We went home and on the same evening that we had purchased everything, that is the materials we needed, We decided to have a practise run and we used A4 paper for this, and at first we tried it in my handwriting, but we realised and I must emphasie this, my handwriting was to disstinctive so it had to be in Anne's handwriting [on Saturday, November 5, 1994, Barrett had informed Gray that the handwriting was 50% Anne’s and 50% his own – these versions are grossly dissimilar so at least one of them must have been a blatant lie], after the practise run which took us approximately two days [it took two days of practice to decide that Anne’s handwriting would be suitable for the hoax?], we decided to go for hell or bust.
I sat in the living room by the rear lounge window in the corner with my word processor, Anne Barrett sat with her back on to me as she wrote the manuscript. This pose was later filmed by Paul Feldman of MIA Productions Limited.
Several days prior to our purchase of materials I had started to roughly outline the Diary on my word processor [unproven].
Anne and I started to write the Diary in all it took us 11 days. I worked on the story and then I dictated it to Anne who wrote it down in the Photograph Album and thus we produced the Diary of Jack the Ripper [this is very clear and unequivocal – Barrett is claiming that he created the text on his word processor from his earlier ‘outline’ whilst Anne transcribes the final version into the scrapbook; this presumably explains the eleven days it takes them to complete it]. Much to my regret there was a witness to this, my young daughter Caroline [unproven – she may have witnessed Barrett researching the scrapbook’s contents but there is no evidence that she witnessed the scrapbook being created by her parents].
During this period [the eleven days in 1990] when we were writing the Diary, Tony Devereux was house-bound [this occurred in 1991], very ill and in fact after we completed the Diary we left it for a while with Tony being severly ill [which had to be pre-August 1991] and in fact he died late May early June 1990 [Tony Devereux died on Thursday, August 8, 1991 having apparently contributed nothing to the creation of the scrapbook text so quite why the Barretts felt the need to leave it for a while with Tony being severely ill is not clear at all].
During the writing of the diary of Jack the Ripper, when I was dictating to Anne, mistakes occurred from time to time for example, Page 6 of the diary, 2nd paragraph, line 9 starts with an ink blot, this blot covers a mistake when I told Anne to write down James instead of thomas. The mistake was covered by the Ink Blot [this ink blot covers the word ‘regards’].
Page 226 of the Book, page 20, centre page inverted commas, quote "TURN ROUND THREE TIMES, AND CATCH WHOM YOU MAY". This was from Punch Magazine, 3rd week in September 1888. The journalist was P.W. WENN [it was John Tenniel].
Page 228 of the book, page 22 Diary, centre top verse large ink blot which covers the letter 's' which Anne Barrett wrote down by mistake [this is a surreal claim as the ink blot is on its own in the centre of the line above it and below it so there is no obvious reason for an ‘s’ to have been written incorrectly or indeed correctly there].
Page 250 book, page 44 Diary, centre page, quote: "OH COSTLY INTERCOURSE OF DEATH". This quotation I took [unproven] from SPHERE HISTORY OF LITERATURE, Volume 2 English Poetry and Prose 1540-1671, Ediated by Christopher Ricks, however, Anne Barrett made a mistake when she wrote it down, she should have written down 'O' not 'OH'.
Page 184 in Volume 2 referrs [presumably the page number of the quotation in the Sphere volume].
When I disposed of the photographs from the Album by giving them to William Graham [unproven], I kept one back. This photograph was of a Grave, with a Donkey standing nearby [unproven]. I had actualy written the "Jack the Ripper Diary" first on my word processor, which I purchased in 1985 [April 3, 1986 – see Appendix 9], from Dixons in Church Street, Liverpool City Centre. The Diary was on two hard back discs when I had finished it [it is inconceivable that the 63-page scrapbook text with so few characters per page would have required two Amstrad 3-inch 180K floppy discs – these discs were capable of storing 180 KB of data per side, equivalent to about 70 pages of text each so around 140 pages of full-page text if used on both sides]. The Discs, the one Photograph, the compass, all pens and the remainder of the ink was taken by my sister Lynn [Lynne] Richardson to her home address, Shorefields Village, Liverpool, 8 [unproven]. When I asked her at a later date for the property she informed me that after an article had appeared in the Daily Post, by Harold Brough, she had destroyed everything, in order to protect me [Lynne denied that Barrett had given her anything, though she may have said this in order to protect her wayward brother from any possibility of being charged].
When I eventually did the deal with Robert Smith, he took possession of the Diary and it went right out of my control [that may be true but Barrett signed-up for this sale despite Anne’s concerns]. There is little doubt in my mind that I have been hoodwinked or if you like conned myself [by this time, Barrett’s interpretation of events can have no consequence or credence]. My inexperience in the Publishing game has been my downfall [despite this, Barrett is routinely described as a ‘published writer’ or a ‘professional writer’], whilst all around me are making money, it seems that I am left out of matters [Barrett rceived far more than he ought to have as many of the earlier payments did not have Harrison’s research expenses deducted], and my Solicitors are now engaged in litigation [which either was untrue or came to nothing]. I have even had bills to cover expenses incurred by the author of the book, Shirley Harrison [as part of the contract he signed in 1992, something which any ‘professional writer’ would have understood].
I finally decided in November 1993 that enough was enough [unproven] and I made it clear from that time on that the Diary of Jack the Ripper was a forgery [unproven], this brought a storm down on me, abuse and threats [unproven]followed and attacks on my character as Paul Feldman led this attack [Barrett was accused of being alcohol-dependent which his solicitor had confirmed in June 1993], because I suppose he had the most to gain from discrediting me [this is true, but it was Barrett’s own lies, stories, and behaviour which did the discrediting].
Mr. Feldman became so obsessed with my efforts [unproven] to bare the truth of the matter, that he started to threaten me [unproven], he took conttrol of my wife [Anne Graham contradicted this in her July 31, 1994, testimony] who left me and my child and he rang me up continuously threatening and bullying me and telling me I would never see my family again [unproven]. On one occasion people were banging on my windows [unproven] as Feldman threatened my life over the phone [unproven]. I became so frightened that I sort the help of a Private Detective Alan Gray [Alan Gray was commissioned to help Barrett locate Anne Graham] and complaints were made to the Police [unsubstantiated claims were made to the police on Saturday, November 5, 1994] which I understand are still being pursued [unproven and extremely unlikely].
It was about 1st week in December 1994 that my wife Anne Barrett visited me [unproven], she asked me to keep my mouth shut [unproven]and that if I did so I could receive a payment of £20,000 before the end of the month [unproven]. She was all over me [unproven] and we even made love [unproven], it was all very odd because just as quickley as she made love to me she threatened me and returned to her old self [unproven]. She insisted Mr Feldman was a very nice Jewish man who was only trying to help her. My wife was clearly under the influence of this man Feldman who I understand had just become separated from his own wife [unproven]. It seemed very odd to me that my wife who had been hidden in London for long enough by Feldman should suddenly re-appear and work on me for Mr Feldman.
I have now decided to make this affidavit to make the situation clear with regard to the Forgery of the Jack the Ripper Diary, which Anne Barrett and I did [unproven] in case anything happenes to me. I would hate to leave at this stage the name of Mr. Maybrick as a tarnished serial killer when as far as I know, he was not a killer [Barrett would – on at least one other occasion – claim to believe Maybrick was indeed Jack the Ripper and had created the scrapbook text to incriminate him].
I am the author [unproven] of the Manuscript written by my wife Anne Barrett at my dictation [unproven] which is known as The Jack the Ripper Diary.

I give my name [‘that all know of me,’]so history do tell what love can do to a gentleman born, Yours Truly -- Michael Barrett.

Sworn at Liverpool in the [Signed]
County of Merseyside, this
5th day of January 1995. Before me: [Signed]


A Solicitor Empowered to Administer Oaths

D.P. HARDY & CO.,
Imperial Chambers,
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[Iconoclast]

One of my favourite Bongoisms was his tendency to quote the famous last line of James Maybirck's scrapbook. He would do it at utterly random times, sometimes without prompting, and often irrelevantly, as if somehow it was a panacea for proving every point he ever claimed about the scrapbook and especially to his relationship with its creation. And yet he never once got it right!

He would say, dramatically, "I give my name so history do tell what love can do to a gentleman born" when - in fact - the line he claimed to have written is "I give my name that all know of me, so history do tell what love can do to a gentleman born.

It just corks me, every time ...

[Iconoclast]

Massive disappointment on Lord Orsam's so-called addressing of the questions I would ask of Anne Graham if she ever admitted to hoaxing the Victorian scrapbook. Expected far more of him than simply evading the question (suddenly he accepts that Anne simply did the writing and all the grunt work of creation was entirely Barrett's including - or so it felt - a long list of books on Jack and James which many observers had noted there was absolutely no evidence Barrett had ever accessed, never mind read; another evasion was asking why Keith Skinner or Caroline Morris did not ask Barrett the same question at the Cloak & Dagger meeting in April 1999 - as if that was a suitable answer to my question to Anne). When it suited him, he answered as Anne, and when it suited him he answered as him, and when it suited him he utterly obfuscated, and when it suited him, he had Barrett as The Most Learned Man in the Room.

It's not worth my time going through his incredibly disappointing 'answers'. Let me just address one in particular:

Q: How did the two of you react when subsequent geoprofiling by others twice pinpointed the specific area around Middlesex Street (Dr. David Canter) and even the street itself (Dr. Kim Rossmo)?

A: [I'm not allowed to quote the Dark Lord directly due to Casebook's rules so I think the following is a reasonable paraphrase] 1) **** me they keeled over and died of shock. 2) Canter focused-in on Commercial Street as the most likely street for the killer while Rossmo chose Flower & Dean Street.

It is clear from my question that I stated Canter identified "the specific area around Middlesex Street" (so Commercial Street, for example - Whitechapel was a huge place so getting so close was pretty jolly good going) and Rossmo decided to focus on Flower & Dean Street (I assume because it was iconic and therefore likely to keep viewers more interested than any street which had rarely if ever been discussed as a locus for Jack) when Flower & Dean Street and Middlesex Street were actually stratospherically ahead of the 3rd most likely locus and were differentiated one from t'other by only the merest fraction of 'redness'.

This is the sort of astonishing coincidence which Orsam vainly attempts to trivialise because he hasn't got a response to it (and yet his acolytes will come on here and say he answered every one of my questions to Anne - that's assuming that anyone still reads his drainpipes, of course). Here is the evidence, as mentioned by the OP way back when in 2008 when this remarkable thread was started:



Ike

[Iconoclast]

Next Orsam obfuscation.

1) Dan Farson's paperback was published in 1973 (not 1972 - I imagine his hardback was published then but really couldn't give one whether it was or it wasn't)
2) No-one needs Dan Farson to have made reference to the 'FM' on Kelly's wall - there is no requirement for him to have been aware of his brilliant rendition of her initials - he needed only to publish the photograph for us to look back in a haze of Maybrick retrospect and see them so very very clearly, twenty years before Bongo Barrett would have his Bright Idea:



Finally, I do so love the smell of irony in the morning, don't you all? And in the afternoon too! Orsam constantly berates anyone who will listen (it's not a lot, in fairness) that he's not getting to play with the Big Boys with their Big Toys (ooh-err matron!) such as the Barrett-Graham transcript of the Victorian scrapbook text (and other things he thinks he's missing in his life) and then he has the audacity to denounce the very obvious 'FM' on Kelly's wall because he's (that's 'he's', note) seen an original plate that doesn't have the 'FM'! And we're all supposed to swallow it whole!

And that, as they say, my dear readers, is that ...

Ike

[caz]

One of my favourite Bongoisms was his tendency to quote the famous last line of James Maybirck's scrapbook. He would do it at utterly random times, sometimes without prompting, and often irrelevantly, as if somehow it was a panacea for proving every point he ever claimed about the scrapbook and especially to his relationship with its creation. And yet he never once got it right!

He would say, dramatically, "I give my name so history do tell what love can do to a gentleman born" when - in fact - the line he claimed to have written is "I give my name that all know of me, so history do tell what love can do to a gentleman born.

It just corks me, every time ...

Not to mention Bongo's "sweet intercourse"!

[Blast - I just mentioned it.]

Love,

Caz
X

[caz]

Hi Thomas.

We do not have the luxury to interrogate Anne Graham, and I suspect we never will, but I encourage you, Jay, Mike, and Caz (and Keith, too, if he's peeking in), to reread the following extraordinary account of Anne being questioned in 1996 by Paul Daniel, then editor of The Ripperologist. I found it quite fascinating to reread it in light of recent claims made about the diary coming from under the floorboards of Dodd’s house. Claims that Keith Skinner believes he can prove in a court of law; which Caz Brown has said she is 100% certain are true; and which your own good self have estimated to be the correct answer, laying odds at over 38,000 to 1.

I'll make a brief comment afterwards that may have some relevance to your questions.

__


Sunday 10th November, 1996. Ten minutes to six. I was walking up Abercorn Place -- yes, the very street where John William Smith Saunders, one of the 'insane' medical students investigated by Chief Inspector Abberline, had lived at No 20 -- and then across Abbey Road, just down from the famous studio brought into our consciousness by The Beatles, and on towards a block of nineteen-thirties art-deco flats. I entered a hallway large enough for a roller-rink and took the lift to my destination.

I had been invited by Paul Feldman to interview Anne Graham, from whom the controversial Diary of Jack the Ripper had originated. As it happened, it turned out not to be an 'interview' at all, but an extremely pleasant, if thoroughly exhausting, evening spent in the discussion of the provenance of the Diary and all the research that had been undertaken, and the documents and evidence that had been discovered, towards the proof of it's authenticity, and Anne's connection to the Maybrick family.

Although I had taken a Dictaphone and camera, I quickly realised it would not be appropriate to ask to use them. I was to be allowed to see, hear, judge, and even relate, but not to have the backup of anything 'on record.' This I could understand, for Paul's book Jack the Ripper: The Final Chapter would not be published by Virgin until next April -- still six months away. When the evening was over, I did not feel at liberty to reveal any of the information I had been given, but merely to give an outline as to what took place, and my overall impressions of the situation and evening.

Paul Feldman I had met before, but could hardly say I knew. Carol Emmas, his researcher, I had also met previously, and become friendly with. Anne Graham I had seen only in the picture with her then husband, Mike Barrett, and their daughter Caroline, reproduced in Shirley Harrison's book The Diary of Jack the Ripper. She did not resemble the picture in the slightest. Wearing a long black dress, with short dark hair, round face, she was the epitome of the unexceptional. There was the familiar Cilla Black inflections in her strong Liverpool accent, and as the evening progressed, I realised she was an intelligent woman. But I also had the strong impression she was completely bored with the whole 'Ripper' saga.

Anne is currently working on her own research for a book about Florence Maybrick, and the intriguing possibility that Florence might have been her great-grandmother. And throughout the whole evening I heard nothing to make me doubt the validity of this investigation. The string of coincidences, curious connections, tangible proofs, photographic likenesses, were simply too many (and too lucky) for anyone to have concocted. They were too interwoven and tangled. They matched up with, and touched on, so many areas that a faker, however sharp, deft, and devious could not possibly have had the good fortune to marry together, and would have soon enough given himself away by some minutely detailed error.

In the four hours I spent with Paul, Anne and Carol, I had the results thrust at me of as many years, and more, of research into the Diary's provenance. By the end I was mentally exhausted. Unable to remember names, details, intricacies of complicated family connections -- it all became a blur. But I was left with the undeniable belief that for any and every query, question, challenge or argument that doubters might put forward in dispute of the Diary's authenticity, there was a completely rational and convincing answer or explanation for each one -- backed up with concrete and tangible evidence.

Paul's discourse was almost stream-of-consciousness, leaping from the time delay, for example, between Elizabeth Stride's attack and her actual murder, as reported by Schwartz, to the street in which James Maybrick's mistress, or wife, Sarah Ann had lived in Whitechapel. He would start relating the search for a piece of information, and Anne would pick up the story and finish it. Occasionally Carol would tell a story of her own, of how she came across a certain piece of vital information.

There was absolutely no indication of collusion. The evening was so informal, and so crammed with information that there was no possibility that it could have been stage-managed, or rehearsed, or faked, for my benefit.

I saw documents, signatures, photographs, videoed interviews, letter comparisons, even correspondence so sensitive that it can never be published. I saw three albums of photographs relating to the Graham/Maybrick family. There were more. In these albums were pictures of people dating from the last century to the present time. All different, but all bearing an unmistakeable stamp of similarity; a down-turn at the edge of the mouth; a sameness in the eyes; a slight point on the eyebrows; an undefinable gauntness; all so similar to the face of the woman sitting on the couch opposite me, that I could not doubt that they were related. Anne Graham had the same down-turned mouth, a plumper, rounder face but it also carried the same undeniable gauntness. The evening's conversation and the evidence I saw, made clear that the provenance of the Diary and the Graham/Maybrick link were inextricably inter-connected.

One other thing became abundantly clear, and this was that people, and this includes intelligent and experienced authors and researchers, simply do not read the words in front of them. By that, I mean they do not observe the actual subtleties of the real meaning of the words. This is difficult to explain. If I say, for example, 'I have based my writing on the original documents...' I might be criticised for including something not in the original documents. My words have not been correctly understood, because I have not been correctly understood, because I have left myself leeway by saying only that I have 'based' my writing on the original documents.

Paul Feldman was more generous with the sharing of his research information than anyone could have rightfully expected. I was a stranger, and outsider if you will, and had been shown, and told, serious information that has yet to be made public. I felt very privileged. When the book is finally released and all the facts I was privy to and more, are published, I believe the provenance of the Diary will be extremely hard to disprove.

Exhausted, I left the apartment at about ten o'clock, with the deep impression that, unbelievably, the riddle of Jack the Ripper is closer to being solved than it ever has been before. The one common factor of all the previous 'suspects' has been an author's lack of factual evidence to conclusively prove his case. In the present instance, the staggering amount of researched evidence could very well turn around all the views put forward in the last hundred and eight years.


--Paul Daniel, The Ripperologist.

---


Please make special note of Daniel's comment:

"The string of coincidences, curious connections, tangible proofs, photographic likenesses, were simply too many (and too lucky) for anyone to have concocted. They were too interwoven and tangled. They matched up with, and touched on, so many areas that a faker, however sharp, deft, and devious could not possibly have had the good fortune to marry together, and would have soon enough given himself away by some minutely detailed error."

He sounds convinced.

And yet, dear Ike, ‘concocted’ is precisely what you, Jay, and Caz believe these ‘interwoven and tangled’ proofs to be—complete concoctions! And I must say, Old Chap, that I'm inclined to agree with you!

Edith and Elizabeth Formby; Billy Graham’s tin box; Alice Yapp; the gravestone of the mysterious 'Flynn' that Anne used to visit as a child; the moving of the diary from room to room to thwart Barrett's inquisitive eyes—all of these 'interwoven and tangled’ webs are simply a collection of lies and misinformation or (in Feldman’s case) self-delusion.

In reality--or at least according to your reality--the diary came from under Paul Dodd’s floorboards on 9 March 1992 and Anne didn’t know any more about it true origins the King of Siam did!

Except, of course, that her husband had brought it home one day from the pub and later stormed over to Eddie Lyons’s house---as later widely publicized in Feldman’s own book.

In brief, according to your own theories, Anne was lying through her teeth during the whole of the evening described by Mr. Daniel, sometimes completing Paul Feldman's sentences for him, and putting on one hell of a charade...not just for Mr. Daniel, but for her own romantic partner, Paul Feldman, and for her good friend and co-author, Carol Emmas

How do you propose to explain this extraordinary conduct?

Well I'm sure RJ has an explanation for it, and his would presumably be that Anne had been up to her elbows in faking the diary with Mike, and needed to come up with a story so complex and intricate that it would be extremely hard for anyone to thoroughly dismantle and disprove.

The problem here, of course, is that if she had been up to her aforementioned elbows in faking said diary with Mike, then Mike would have been the obvious, and possibly only person on the planet, who should have been able to disprove Anne's story even before it was first thought of, never mind told. Anne could not possibly have known if Mike had destroyed every last piece of physical evidence of their joint creative juices, or might spring it on everyone at any moment, exposing a real talent for telling tall stories, that would dwarf Mike's own talent for telling pointless lies in between the truth.

Anne had guessed rightly by July 1994 that nobody would be coming out of the Battlecrease woodwork anytime soon with proof that her story was baloney. Mike had his own reasons for making a false confession to faking the diary, which his solicitor quickly retracted on his behalf. It would have done him no good to tell a third story, in which the Battlecrease rumours had been true after all, and his precious diary was stolen property, which he had received and then made thousands from getting it published. Let's not forget that Anne also received a share of the spoils, which is not a good look whether the diary was faked or stolen. At least with the latter option, she could always plead genuine ignorance of the precise circumstances in which Mike had gained possession and brought it home. She'd have only known 'when', but not 'who' had passed it on to him, or 'where' and 'how' that person had acquired it. After enough time had passed, with nobody claiming ownership, Anne allowed herself to take the share Doreen arranged for her. When Anne saw that vile affidavit, dated within a month of her divorce coming through, in which her ex husband claimed the diary was faked in early 1990, with the co-operation of his ex wife, daughter, late friend and recently deceased father-in-law, she'd have been even more reassured that if Mike was never going to 'reveal all' about where the diary really came from - and Feldman was never going down that avenue again - it would be unlikely in the extreme that anyone else would 'reveal all' in the future, or be able to prove it if they did.

Events that appear 'unlikely in the extreme' have an annoying habit of happening anyway.

[Iconoclast]

Next Orsam obfuscation.

1) Dan Farson's paperback was published in 1973 (not 1972 - I imagine his hardback was published then but really couldn't give one whether it was or it wasn't)
2) No-one needs Dan Farson to have made reference to the 'FM' on Kelly's wall - there is no requirement for him to have been aware of his brilliant rendition of her initials - he needed only to publish the photograph for us to look back in a haze of Maybrick retrospect and see them so very very clearly, twenty years before Bongo Barrett would have his Bright Idea:



Finally, I do so love the smell of irony in the morning, don't you all? And in the afternoon too! Orsam constantly berates anyone who will listen (it's not a lot, in fairness) that he's not getting to play with the Big Boys with their Big Toys (ooh-err matron!) such as the Barrett-Graham transcript of the Victorian scrapbook text (and other things he thinks he's missing in his life) and then he has the audacity to denounce the very obvious 'FM' on Kelly's wall because he's (that's 'he's', note) seen an original plate that doesn't have the 'FM'! And we're all supposed to swallow it whole!

And that, as they say, my dear readers, is that ...

Ike

By the way, dear readers, according to Lord Orsam's green, plastic drainpipes (reduced to clear at B&Q stores nationwide), I have never actually produced an image of Florence's initials on Kelly's wall. Now, maybe he wrote that ages ago (I should have checked), but - there you go - I'm definitely doing it now (actually, I actually did it now). From Farson (1973, paperback), twenty years before Mike Barrett's rag and bone man hands fell upon the Victorian scrapbook (presumably), Dan Farson's editors were publishing the clearest yet version of the initials of the errant wife of the extremely errant Jack the Ripper.

Of course, whoever wrote the text for the scrapbook may very well have been the first to notice those initials and thus backward-engineered a most incredibly unlikely hoax around them, but no-one else subsequently saw them (that we know about). Simon Wood saw initials and discussed them with Martin Fido in the City Darts pub in 1989 but they weren't these initials so they could not possibly have been looking at Farson's 1972 hardback nor his 1973 paperback so our hoaxer deserves their place in the sun for having spotted what no-one else spotted, despite the intense scrutiny of some two decades. Slowly now: clap, clap, clap ...

You can just imagine the scene, can't you?

INT - DAY

It is a dreich Saturday and thirteen year-old DAVID BONGO is in his bedroom, bored. He has been reading Dan Farson's 1973 Sphere paperback Jack the Ripper (he has a number of Sphere publications on a shelf) and he has just noticed that Mary Kelly's wall - in the harsh light of the cameraman's flash - bears a clear set of initials which have never before been remarked upon. They are 'FM'. Young David ponders this.

BONGO [Voiceover] 'FM'. That's interesting. I reckon I could take my gran's old Victorian scrapbook here, rip out all the precious family memories at the front, and then use this to write a hoaxed diary of Jack the Ripper. And I could weave in a tangential mention of these initials I've just spotted. I will be clever and not be too obvious and that way it will give my hoax the credibility factor. I should really be outside with my pals playing on my Chopper, but it's a rubbish day so - yes - I think I'll spend it writing silly verses of terrible poetry which I'll largely just cross out, and I'll end up with a really unusual document which I'll maybe foster onto the world of publishing like all the other great literary hoaxes that have made their authors vast fortunes. Yes, I'll do that. But who will I use as my candidate for Jack?

BONGO is seen pondering this at length, and then he exclaims.

BONGO Ulrika! [Voiceover] It's obvious! 'FM' could stand for 'Fiona Mayblood', that murdering harlot from nearly a hundred years ago we keep hearing about at the minute 'cos the centenary is approaching and what have you. She was accused of murdering her husband Frank Mayblood with a candlestick in the library of their home in Liverpool and she did a ten stretch in chokey for it before escaping and fleeing to America. Frank Mayblood sold cotton or something, though. And he came from Liverpool. And he was already part of a famous Victorian murder story. And he had no obvious reason to be anywhere near Whitechapel. And he was ancient - like forty or something. And he had no criminal record for slicing and dicing ladies of the night. Plus, I've no idea what his handwriting looks like. But - hey - I've got this book by Ryan there on me shelf and I've got me Farson. They'll do. I'll cobble something together and see how I get on. I've got a bottle of genuine Victorian ink here which my great grandad always said would come in useful one day. I'll get straight down to work right now. But - before I do - what else could I possibly hoax to make the whole thing a bit more believable?

There is a knock on BONGO's bedroom door and his father IGNATIUS BONGO enters.

BONGO SNR [Holding something out to Bongo] Hey, son, I've just won £225 quid down the bookies and I saw this and I thought of you. It's a heirloom for the future so don't go messing' around with it, okay?

BONGO [Voiceover] Ulrika! [Normal voice with undertones of sinister laughter] Oh, absolutely not, dad ...

It's all so clear as day, as clear as the 'FM' on Kelly's wall, as clear as "and that is that".

Ike

[FISHY1118]

Just for those of us that believe otherwise , its clear as day there are no initials ,not ''FM'' or any other at the murder scene of Mary Jane Kelly .

[Iconoclast]

Just for those of us that believe otherwise , its clear as day there are no initials ,not ''FM'' or any other at the murder scene of Mary Jane Kelly .

Well, if you actively choose to ignore the really very obvious ones which are staring you in the face right the middle of the photograph above, then I'd absolutely have to agree with you. Diary detractors have admitted that they can see those 'shapes' (I'm being helpful here, by the way) and shapes don't form articulated letters by sheer chance alone.

And - look - I'll let you off with the letter 'F' carved into her arm for now ("her initial there", as Maybrick described it before striking that line out).

Don't sweat it, Fishy. Diary detractors and diary supporters alike 100% understand why you have to say that you can't see the 'FM" that is so patently obvious to everyone else. You can't admit to seeing them because you'd have the extremely taxing problem of having to come up with a plausible reason for why the rest of us can see them so easily and that might involve having to acknowledge that a hoaxer saw them, backward-engineered the entire story from the initials to Florence and thus to James and then cleverly stuck references to them in the scrapbook, even more cleverly crossing certain key lines out.

None as blind as those who won't see, eh?

[FISHY1118]

Well, if you actively choose to ignore the really very obvious ones which are staring you in the face right the middle of the photograph above, then I'd absolutely have to agree with you. Diary detractors have admitted that they can see those 'shapes' (I'm being helpful here, by the way) and shapes don't form articulated letters by sheer chance alone.

And - look - I'll let you off with the letter 'F' carved into her arm for now ("her initial there", as Maybrick described it before striking that line out).

Don't sweat it, Fishy. Diary detractors and diary supporters alike 100% understand why you have to say that you can't see the 'FM" that is so patently obvious to everyone else. You can't admit to seeing them because you'd have the extremely taxing problem of having to come up with a plausible reason for why the rest of us can see them so easily and that might involve having to acknowledge that a hoaxer saw them, backward-engineered the entire story from the initials to Florence and thus to James and then cleverly stuck references to them in the scrapbook, even more cleverly crossing certain key lines out.

None as blind as those who won't see, eh?

Well ike ,I guess you and others diary supporters would say that to justify what you think you see that others do not .

[Iconoclast]

Well ike ,I guess you and others diary supporters would say that to justify what you think you see that others do not .

I would question the validity of your comparison, Fishy.

I am making the claim that you cannot see what is really very obviously right in front of you, whereas you are claiming that it is literally not there at all.

I see 'shape' (again, I'm being generous to those who can't bring themselves to use the word 'initials') whereas you see no 'shape'. It's literally impossible to not see 'shape' but you can't it appears (or else you claim you can't to overcome the threat of severe cognitive dissonance). Your argument would have so much more credibility if you qualified your response based upon your sense of sight and stated that you can at least understand what the argument you are facing is based upon. To try to wish it away as a defence against something maybe you yourself are uncertain about - your Maybrickphobia, let's say - simply undermines your claims at every turn.

Here's your dilemma, though: once you admit that there are perceptible 'shapes' on Kelly's wall, you then have to admit that they make a more than passing charade for the letters 'F' and 'M' and - once you do that - you have to admit that those two letters (in the correct order, note) form the initials of the woman in the Victorian scrapbook who is referred to as 'the whoring mother' and - once you do that - you have to admit that it is yet another miracle-of-miracles that the scrapbook predicts they'll be somewhere in Kelly's room and - lo! - there they are.

So we understand why it is important that you never move from your position of "I see no initials, there are no initials", et cetera. It's just psychology, though.