The Story Of Myra's Murder By Myra Hindley

On 7 October 1965, I was dispatched to 16 Wardle Brook Avenue, following a call by David Smith. David, who sounded distraught, insisted his sister in law’s boyfriend, Ian Brady, had put on “an act of violence involving guns”. Upon arrival, I met with Myra Hindley. Myra led me into the living room, where Ian was seen to be writing a note to his employer explaining that he wouldn’t go to work due to his ankle injury. The couple denied there had been violence, and guided me to look around the house. A room on the upper floor appeared suspicious as the door was locked. Myra claimed the key of the door was at work. However, Ian immediately told her to hand the key over as I offered to drive her to her employer’s premises to retrieve it. In the
Myra insisted she was afraid to walk home alone at night, so I accompanied her. Once we reached the house, Ian questioned me whether I wanted spirits. I nodded my head and Ian led me into the kitchen. Whilst I was waiting for Ian to fetch the bottles, I suddenly heard a hell of a scream; high-pitched and woman-like. The screams carried on. Amongst the chaos, I heard Myra shout “David, help him”, so I immediately rushed into the living room. What I was about to witness scarred me for life… A young lad was lying on the floor. Ian was standing over him, with his legs on either side of the lad’s legs. Ian had a hatchet in his hand… he struck the lad’s head repeatedly. The lad attempted to fight back, but was ultimately killed as Ian strangled him with an electrical
He would whip me. I would regularly be covered in scars. He threatened to assasinate my family. He completely dominated me. Once, he raped me anally, urinated inside me, and whilst doing so, strangled me. He bit me on the cheekbone, until my face bled. I attempted to fight him off. The more I resisted, the more pressure he placed towards my neck. My mother nearly collapsed when she saw me. My mother disliked Ian and insisted he was no good, but what teenager would listen to her mother when she is fully besotted. Ian was evil. But he had a magnet-like charisma into which my whole self, became subsumed. Even picnics on the moors turned dark. We used to hike up the hills. He often told me he was going to practice moving a corpse. He would instruct me to act limp, hoisting me up-my legs hanging upon his shoulder, and my upper body towards the ground. My head would be flooded with blood. I would see the sky and ground whirl, feeling dizzy. He would stagger over rocks. I would hurt