Daily Mirror (Northern Ireland)
We searched ol lonely woods... body became a D mines, canals, finding Helen’s an obsession
Simms could have ended the search at a stroke but chose not to MARIE MCCOURT ON THE YEARS LOOKING FOR HELEN
WHEN 22-year-old Helen Mccourt disappeared heading home from work on February 9, 1988, her mum Marie’s lifelong quest for answers started.
Local pub landlord Ian Simms was convicted of Helen’s murder after luring her to his flat above the bar.
Her body was never found. For almost a decade after her killing, Marie and family searched the countryside around Billinge, Merseyside, each Sunday for Helen’s remains.
In our second extract from her new book, Justice For Helen – A Mother’s Quest to Find Her Murdered Daughter, Marie, 77, describes those desperate and often dangerous missions.
Setting off in the car with flasks and sandwiches, we must have looked like any other family heading for a day out. Except we weren’t going to picture-postcard spots or breathtaking areas of natural beauty.
We were seeking out God-forsaken hell-holes: old mines, rat-infested sewers, stagnant ponds, litter-strewn ditches, lonely woods.
Places off the beaten track... Places suitable for hiding a body.
After the police searches for Helen were wound down, the family went out every weekend without fail, searching from morning till night. Those searches were to become a focal point of my life, a purpose for getting up each morning, a reason to keep going.
Helen was gone, I knew that. No miracle was ever going to bring her back. But I had to find her, I had to bring her home.
Burying a child is every parent’s nightmare, but it was a dream that spurred me on for the next three decades. It was to become an obsession. A compulsion.
With my brother Tez at the helm we became a formidable team, using all the evidence from the trial. We thought forensically, logically, poring over Ordnance Survey maps and placing ourselves inside Simms’ twisted mind.
Slight as Helen was, he wouldn’t have been able to carry her over a long distance. “We need to focus on secluded lay-bys where you could pull a car in close to a gap in woods or a fence...” Tez reasoned. “And he’s not going to bury her in the middle of an overlooked field or picturesque spots where dog walkers go. We’re talking areas well away from houses. Canals, bridges, sewage pipes, clay pits.”
Searching was to be a huge task. Billinge was an old mining community. The land beneath, and for miles around, was honeycombed with mining tunnels and shafts, flooded tunnels and quarries.
Simms was into fishing and shooting so he knew the countryside like the back of his hand. One local said he knew more holes and warrens than the rabbits. He’d openly boasted of being able to hide a body so well, it would never be found.
We ended up covering a huge area – as far west as Southport and all across Lancashire. There was no internet or Google maps. It was all done with pen, paper and Ordnance Survey maps.
We’d don waterproofs, industrial gloves, wellies and steel-capped boots (I always wore Helen’s favourite jeans) and pack flasks, giant teapots and enough sandwiches for a small army.
We’d start at first light (my husband John and I always went to mass first) and only stop when it was too dark or cold to carry on. Week in, week out, we toiled through torrential rain, thick fog, swirling snow, bone-numbing cold and blistering heatwaves.
Divided into groups, we’d probe and sift every square inch of ground for disturbed earth, unusual dips and mounds, trampled vegetation, heavy footprints or discarded clothes (Helen’s upper garments and one boot were still missing). Simms had been covered in scratches so sharp, brambles or thickets always caught our attention.
My heart would jolt at a flapping corner of polythene (bin bags?) or a flash of metal reflecting the sunlight (an opal earring?). It was always a plastic bag or tin can. Once, Tez even hired a boat to accompany my son Michael as he waded through water, checking underwater branches.
Although they were bleak, sad times, we grew ever closer as a family. Helping each other over stiles, sharing the digging, passing around cups of tea.
As well as the frustration, anger and exhaustion at this relentless task, week in, week out, there was also encouragement, compassion and even humour. If there was a pond to topple into, a tree root to trip over, or a slope to tumble down, poor John was guaranteed to find it.
I lived for those moments when reality was suspended and all was well, even just for a nanosecond. Helen would have found it hilarious.
Over time, we embraced new search methods. Merseyside Police trained two dogs: Benny, a springer spaniel, and Gyp, a border collie, especially to he m all
elp in our searches. There were so many efforts, so many hopes – which l came to nothing.
One Sunday, one of the sniffer dogs an excitedly into a pond, barking furiusly. We spent an entire day emptying – scooping out gallon upon gallon of agnant water. I worked feverishly, ncouraging everyone to keep going I had a good feeling. Finally, as dusk ll, the muddy bottom came into view. n the fading light, my eyes darted around for the shape, the outline, of a body. I was still looking long after the others had stopped.
John tried to coax me out, but a wave of despair consumed me. Suddenly, I was on my knees. As cold mud seeped into Helen’s jeans, I lifted my face to the sky. And I wailed.
Looking back, I’m horrified at the danger we put ourselves in every single week. One weekend, we nearly lost my nephew, Tony, in a river. Simms could have ended it at a stroke – he chose not to. Even today, we still go out on searches. Merseyside Police assure me the case will remain open until Helen is found. If I am not here to see it, please can I ask that my daughter is brought home with love and dignity.
Give her a requiem mass. Sprinkle her coffin with holy water and, perhaps yellow rose petals, then lay her to rest beside me, in our family plot in St Mary’s churchyard, where she belongs.
Justice for Helen by Marie Mccourt with Fiona Duffy is published by John Blake on February 4. Paperback price £8.99. Available in Audiobook and ebook.