‘Sex, Cash and Death’: The Story Behind ‘A Very English Scandal’
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Version 0 of 1. When the three-part mini-series “A Very English Scandal” hits Amazon Prime on June 29, it will be received by a much different audience than the one that rapturously watched it on BBC One last month. That audience was presumably much better-versed on the scandal that inspired the series (and the John Preston true-crime novel it was adapted from), which involved a closeted gay member of Parliament named Jeremy Thorpe, a male model, blackmail and a murder plot. If you aren’t familiar with the history, one of the pleasures of the series is watching it unspool in all its stranger-than-fiction glory. But if you want some background, or you’re fuzzy on the details, here’s a primer on the key events and players, as well as on the shamelessly lascivious tabloid coverage that swirled around the story. Thorpe was a member of British Parliament for 20 years, where he served as representative of the North Devon district. In 1967, at age 37, he assumed leadership of the Liberal Party and held the post for nine years — more than doubling their voter support. [‘A Very English Scandal’ Is Very Good. And Scandalous. Read the review by Margaret Lyons.] He was also rumored to be gay, and although he did not acknowledge it (particularly because male homosexual acts were against the law in Britain until 1967) and married twice, he only admitted to homosexual “tendencies” during his 1979 trial. He insisted he was never more than friends with Norman Scott. Scott, an author and former male model, was a stable boy when he met Thorpe in 1961, but he first appeared in the British press in January 1976. Under the banner headline “THESE WILD SEX CLAIMS,” the Daily Mirror reported that Scott, while appearing in court on a charge of defrauding a post office, made an “astonishing outburst”: “I am being hounded by people the whole time just because of my sexual relationship with Jeremy Thorpe.” According to the Mirror, Thorpe quickly supplied a statement refuting Scott’s claims, saying: “It is well over 12 years since I last saw or spoke to Mr. Scott. There is no truth in Mr. Scott’s wild allegation.” But within days, the same paper was reporting on the “riddle” of a payment of 2,500 British pounds Scott said he received in exchange for letters from Thorpe. Scott said the transaction was handled by Peter Bessell, from whom he reportedly received a “monthly retainer” for six months in the late 1960s. Bessell described those payments as charity for a “destitute” man, and that “no further significance should be read into those payments.” Bessell was a former member of Parliament — in fact, he was Thorpe’s closest friend and confidante in Westminster. According to Preston’s book, Bessell was one of the few who knew about Thorpe’s sexuality and was aware as far back as 1965 of the potential the young man presented for blackmail. Bessell later testified that he had been privy to discussions in which Thorpe insisted he would be better off if Scott were simply killed. He left Parliament in 1970 to pursue business interests in America; the British tabloids described him using their typical flair for the dramatic, the Mirror referring to him as the “runaway former Liberal MP.” Holmes was a wealthy banker, one of the deputy treasurers of the Liberal Party and a loyal friend of Thorpe’s (he was best man at Thorpe’s first wedding); shortly after the £2,500 payoff became public knowledge, he came forward to admit that he had supplied the funds. But there was more: Holmes was accused of hiring a hit man, allegedly at Thorpe’s prodding, through a chain of contacts that included two acquaintances named John Le Mesurier and George Deakin. The man they allegedly settled upon was an airline pilot named Andrew Newton; Holmes, Le Mesurier and Deakin would eventually stand trial with Thorpe for conspiracy to murder. In October 1975, Newton pulled a gun on Scott on a deserted country road, shot and killed Scott’s dog and then planned to shoot and kill Scott. But as he later told the London Evening News, he ultimately lost his nerve. (In the mini-series, his gun jams). His connection to the scandal and his own colorful personality — “My Kinky Sex-Life, by Man Who Shot Scott’s Dog” went one Daily Mirror headline during the trial — made his trial for firearm charges newsworthy, but at the time, he did not admit to any conspiracy or involvement by Thorpe. He was sentenced to two years in jail. (He later confessed on camera that Holmes hired him to kill Scott.) Two months after Newton’s sentencing, the Thorpe/Scott affair got a fresh jolt of adrenaline. To bolster his claim that he and Scott were merely friends, Thorpe released two of the letters he bought back from Scott to the British press. It backfired spectacularly. Dated 1961 and 1962, the period in which Scott had always said the relationship occurred, they display a warmth and affection that certainly seems more than casual. The signoff to the earlier letter became rather notorious: “Bunnies can (and will) go to France. Yours affectionately, Jeremy. I miss you.” Quickly nicknamed “The Bunny Letter,” it caused a furor that led, within days, to Thorpe’s resignation as leader of the Liberal Party, making the story into front-page, international news. The story then went cold for several months — until Newton was released from prison in October 1977, with an explosive story to tell: “I WAS PAID £5,000 TO KILL SCOTT,” blasted the “Daily Mirror” headline, for a story in which Newton said he “accepted the job for money and it was a contract to murder.” For the next several months, the British police investigated Newton’s claim, but the bulk of their evidence came not from the pilot-cum-dog killer, but from Thorpe’s old confidante Peter Bessell. Thorpe, Deakin, Holmes and Le Mesurier were charged with conspiracy in August 1978; the trial began, amid a flurry of headlines like “SEX, CASH AND DEATH” and “THE ‘CRAZY PLOT’ TO KILL SCOTT,” the following May. The trial concluded just over a month later, after testimony from Scott, Bessell, Newton and others (but not from Thorpe), with a widely ridiculed round of jury instructions from the judge, Sir Joseph Cantley. He insulted most of the prosecution’s witnesses, branding Scott a “fraud,” “sponger,” “whiner” and “parasite”; calling Bessell “a humbug” and Newton “a chump”; and insisting that none could be trusted because they all stood to benefit financially by selling their stories to the press. He expressed skepticism that the defendants “would do the things the persons are said to have done,” but he did grant that if “you are ultimately convinced by the evidence that they did, then, however sadly, you will have to convict.” The jury returned, after two and a half days of deliberation, with a not-guilty verdict for all four men. But Cantley’s instructions lived on, in the form of an uproarious parody by Peter Cook titled “Entirely a Matter for You,” performed at the “Secret Policeman’s Ball”’ a few days after the end of the trial. By the time of the verdict, Thorpe had already lost his seat in Parliament (in the 1979 general election that brought Margaret Thatcher and the Conservative Party to power). He did not attempt to re-enter politics, retiring with his second wife, Marion, to the village of Exmoor in Southwest England. He died in 2014 at age 85. Scott, now 78, lives in the county of Devon in southwest England. He gives occasional interviews, and he appears at the end of “A Very English Scandal,” holding one of his eleven dogs. He seems very happy. |