Quest goes on to explain final fate

ON his way to Saddleworth . . . a grainy CCTV image of the mystery man at Piccadilly Station

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THE identity of a man found dead on Saddleworth Moor remains a mystery. A year on, KEN BENNETT reviews a fascinating case which still poses more questions than answers...

I AM walking in the footsteps of a man whose final fateful journey on this craggy moorland path has captivated a worldwide audience.

Because here, 12 months ago on Monday, the man mortuary attendants have named Neil Dovestones was found lying dead in the loom of an inhospitable, wind-ravaged knoll.

In his pocket were three rail tickets, £130 in £10 notes and a small plastic medicine bottle which later revealed traces of strychnine that killed him.

No wallet, credit or travel cards, mobile phone, rings, watch ... or even the tiniest scrap of paper.

He had travelled by train from Ealing to London Euston (£4.80) and on by rail to Manchester Piccadilly (£81.50) on Friday, December 11 last year.

There is riveting, enhanced CCTV footage showing him walking to the station at Ealing, buying his ticket for his journey north at Euston and arriving in Piccadilly station.

He spent 53 minutes at the station. Film shows him sitting eating a boxed sandwich from a triangular package and holding a plastic bottle of water he had purchased at the station.

But what happened to the loose change from the rail ticket and his refreshment purchases?

Was he hiding a secret? Was he weighed down by guilt or a personal tragedy in his life (he's aged between 65-75) he just could no longer bear?

Or, as a complete counterpoint, did he really intend to take his own life?

If so, why did he buy a return ticket to London which was valid for a month: there was only a £1 difference in the fare?

And perhaps the most bedevilling question of all still hangs in the cold moorland air: Why did he travel more than 180 miles to die on scraggy Chew Track, an insignificant lace of land wending from Dovestones to Chew Reservoir?

Yet despite Trojan efforts by Detective Sergeant John Coleman and his devoted team from Oldham CID currently there is still nothing to link Neil Dovestones to the area.

Police know the last stage of his journey from Manchester to Saddleworth was not by train. The time lines were too tight to allow for a journey by bus.

However, shortly after 2pm on that fateful Friday he walked into The Clarence at Greenfield and asked innkeeper Mel Robinson for directions "to the way to the top of the mountains...".

Mr Robinson was possibly the last person to speak to the man who was 6ft 1in tall, white, slim build, with receding grey hair, blue eyes, and large nose which might have been broken.

He was wearing a heavy brown jacket, blue jumper, white long-sleeved open necked shirt, blue corduroy trousers and polished, black slip-on size nine shoes, costing more than £250.

Mr Robinson said: "I told him there was not enough daylight for him to get there and back today. He just thanked me and asked me again for the directions, which I repeated and he just set off."

The light was fading, the temperature dropping and rain was in the air.

It rained heavily overnight and Neil's body, lying on his back, was found level with the track at Robbs Rocks, 2.5 miles from the pub by a passing cyclist on the Saturday morning.

Medical examinations established the strychnine poisoning and he had had an operation to repair a fracture to his left femur in Pakistan.

And currently the national crime agency are trying to locate the medical team who carried out the operation while a geological team on the continent attempt to reveal details of his childhood.

At the very beginning of the inquiry, Sgt Coleman told me: "I find it impossible to believe he's not known to someone."

He is right.

But meantime every lead, every detailed line of inquiry, every set back, disappointment and blind alley police have meticulously explored sits in neat order in a series of boxes simply marked 0936/1.

Perhaps the first twinkling glow of a new Christmas will throw more light for Sgt Coleman and his team?

I believe there will be an answer somewhere beyond the palpable silence of Saddleworth Moor. Then Neil Dovestone may finally be laid to rest ... with his real name.