Fight to Clear Barry George
of the Jill Dando Murder
by
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On April 26 1999 I was surprised to hear the news on my car radio that the BBC TV presenter Jill Dando had been mugged, possibly stabbed and was believed to have died. ‘O God, another one?’ I thought. I was comparing her death to that three years earlier of Veronica Guerin who was shot a number of times as she drove into Dublin following a court appearance in Naas. I later saw that Jill had been shot, not stabbed. Up to that the big news that spring was the NATO intervention in the then Serbian province of Kosovo. I would listen to the accounts of the bombers leaving RAF airfields on my radio while walking with my dog Shannon, and of the so called warlord Arkan who took his private army the ‘Tiger’s’ down to Kosovo. I never dreamed that those news stories would assume any significance for me and my family in the years ahead. I did not take any particular interest in the Dando murder then, I was more concerned with the declining health of my mother who was ill. She died in September of that year. In early May 2000 I visited my sister Margaret in London as part of my summer holidays. Her son Barry had called to see me on the day I arrived, but had left before I got there. Later I mentioned that to one of my brothers who explained that Barry was a little uptight as he was getting a bit of hassle from the police over the Jill Dando murder. I was puzzled, why would the police be interested in him, surely he wasn’t involved? Could he have done it? ‘No no of course not, but the silly prat has been going around talking about the murder and has got the attention of the police’. A couple of days later Margaret told me that the police had recently questioned Barry in her presence and had also searched her house. I felt glad that I hadn’t been there. Barry called around in the evening before Coronation Street ended. Margaret’s lifelong friend Annie was chatting away as she does while I was engrossed in Corrie. After a time I realised that something had changed and then I realised that Annie had stopped talking. I looked over to her and was a little surprised to see her sitting in silence, which is unusual. Barry had a meal and watched a film on Channel 5, a rather nasty film about a woman who was trapped with a murderous psychotic gunman in a camper van. At one stage she managed to get hold of a gun but could not bring herself to shoot the man in the back. ‘She knows what to do but she can’t do it’ said Barry. That sent a shiver down my spine and I stole a sideways glance at him wondering for a moment would he be able to do it, was I sitting next to a murderer? But though I thought he looked a little tense he otherwise seemed much the same as ever and I dismissed the possibility. I didn’t mention the police and neither did he. I wasn’t aware then that he was being followed around by a team of police. I did fear that he might ask me for a drive to Ireland when I was going home the next morning but to my relief he didn’t. I had last met him in November 1998 when we had discussed his interest in computers. He spoke then of his hopes of doing a university course boasting that he would be the only one in the family to have a degree. I got the impression that he hoped the course might have the end result of him becoming a pop star or performing on TV. As I said goodbye to him that night I joked ‘the next time I see you, you will probably be on the box’. He looked puzzled and I repeated myself. He still looked puzzled and then Margaret said ‘on the box, the telly’. Barry laughed in relief explaining that he thought I had said ‘in the box’, meaning in a coffin. Now it was my turn to be puzzled. In the early summer of 1999 I spoke to him briefly on the phone. He told me that the university course was on hold and that he had curvature of the spine.
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About the Book
When I first heard that Barry George was arrested for the murder of Jill Dando, I was shocked, but did not think that he was guilty. I decided that I would offer Barry and his mother my unconditional support, which was accepted. I helped him to get a good defence team and followed the case with close interest. I thought the Crown might produce hard evidence at the committal hearing and was horrified when he was sent for trial on the little evidence which they had. When, seven months after his arrest, the Home Office bowed to pressure and finally allowed me to visit him, I became a regular visitor. I was there when he was convicted, and the following day, I told the UK that he was innocent. A rift in his supporters then opened, but we all had the same aim, justice for Barry. One day, a respected reporter asked me: “If Barry did not kill Jill Dando, then who did?” I had never given that any thought, but I would, in the future. What I discovered was disturbing, and I came to believe that the real killer may have slipped under the radar while potentially vital evidence was ignored, the crime scene destroyed, red herrings chased, as the trail went cold. Following Barry’s failed appeal, I set up website and later formed a small but well supported campaign group. We took every opportunity to highlight doubts and discrepancies. After a few bleak years, with our help, the BBC Panorama exposed serious flaws in the Crown’s case. We were on the road to victory, and two years later, we arrived. Barry and I then went our separate ways but reconciled eventually. But this story will not end until the murder of Jill Dando is properly solved or explained. I have not given up hope on that, and I would like to think that this book might inspire the powers that be to have a more in-depth review of all the evidence, old and new. Not to do so would be remiss of them and an affront to justice. Mike Burke, June 2012
About the Author
Mike Burke is a working man, a trade union activist and an uncle of Barry George, the man convicted and eventually cleared of the murder of the BBC TV presenter Jill Dando. Mike lived in London for some years in the 1970s and throughout the ’80s, working in a variety of jobs including security, public transport, and the BBC. He took a casual interest in some of the high-profile criminal justice cases of the times, such as the Bridgewater Three, the murder of political activist Hilda Murrell, and the many Irish cases. He left London in 1990 and returned to rural Limerick, Ireland. He is a keen reader and enjoys walking with his dogs in rain, hail, or shine. In the year 2000, Mike was still trusting of the criminal justice system, thinking if one had nothing to hide, one had nothing to fear. But he was so much younger then; he’s older, wiser now.