Sadistic Torture
Julie’s poor dad suffered at the hands of two brutal bullies...
eagulls circled overhead as I waited for my dad. Since my parents parted, I’d been skipping school to meet him in Leith, Edinburgh, every Thursday morning. But I wasn’t skiving to go anywhere special, I was just going with him to collect his benefits. Still, I adored my
Sdad, Kevin Bruce, and his face lit up when he saw me.
‘Hello love,’ he grinned, as we headed to The Vine pub, which was open already.
Sadly, my lovely, gentle dad was a drinker. As I sat sipping orange juice on a bar stool, as he drank vodka, he asked about school and my older brother, Jamie.
Never a violent drunk, he’d just get sleepy after a skinful.
Once a factory worker, he’d coached football at Jamie’s school, too. Not any more, though. Other members of the family had abandoned him, but I remained loyal to Dad. He was vulnerable. Sometimes, on Saturdays, when I visited his flat, there were two blokes there – Terence Haddow and Gordon Sturgeon.
I instantly disliked them both.
They’d tap him up f or money, even hitting him in front of me once, when he was worse for wear.
Unfortunately, Dad was too soft to kick them out.
Then, in June 2002, I waited for Dad on a Thursday morning, but he didn’t come. By 10.30am, I was really worried.
He didn’t have a phone and had recently moved, so I didn’t know his address.
I hoped he’d drunk too much and passed out.
I didn’t mention anything to Mum later – just hoped that things would return to normal the next Thursday.
But on the Saturday, the police knocked on the door.
‘Is there somewhere we can we speak to you – alone?’ the policeman asked Mum. Instinctively, I knew something terrible had happened to Dad.
Playing Angel by Shaggy, Dad’s favourite song, I waited for Mum to join me.
‘There’s no easy way to say this…’ she said. ‘Your dad has been found dead in his flat. The police think he was murdered.’
Fleeing to my bedroom, I cried all night long.
‘Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm your dad?’ detectives asked me the next day.
‘Terence Haddow and Gordon Sturgeon,’ I replied. I’d witnessed their cruelty. So they were arrested. Dad was buried beside his mum at Seafield Cemetery.
Meanwhile, Haddow and Sturgeon both denied killing him.
But in November 2002, at Edinburgh High Court, they were both found guilty of murder. Just 14, I didn’t attend. Poor Dad had let Sturgeon, 37, and Haddow, 54, into his flat, where they’d punched and kicked him.
Using table legs they’d ripped from the furniture, they’d battered Dad, then slammed the table top on him, crushing his bones and shoulder.
All day and night the evil pair had tortured my poor, defenceless
They’d tap him up for money, hitting him
father. Then they’d dragged him to the post office, to withdraw cash for them.
A witness had seen Sturgeon, Haddow and his girlfriend, Sharon Mortimer, waiting with Dad, who was trembling, with a cut face, at a bus shelter.
Booze stocks replenished, back at Dad’s flat, the savage men laid into him again.
Then, the depraved duo used a cheese grater to rip skin from his feet and legs, slashing his cheek so badly that his jaw was exposed.
The horrific torture lasted for a total of three days and nights.
‘Death would not have come quickly,’ said pathologist Dr Marjorie Black, after losing count of his injuries during the post-mortem.
Even a hardened Edinburgh detective said Dad’s injuries were some of the worst he had ever seen in 23 years as a policeman.
Sharon Mortimer, 40, claimed Dad had come on to her.
Unlikely, but even if it was true, he didn’t deserve to be tortured to death.
Haddow and Sturgeon blamed each other, but the jury saw straight through them.
Sharon Mortimer was acquitted on a ‘not proven’ verdict, as the jury felt there was insufficient evidence to convict.
But judge Lord Menzies condemned Haddow and Sturgeon, saying: ‘You tortured your victim to death,’ as he sentenced them to life, with a minimum of 14 years.
Over time, I tried to come to terms with my loss.
After school, I landed an admin job.
And, in 2006, I fell in love with Derek Sinclair, 22, a car window tinter.
After four years, we moved in together. But my happiness was tainted when I realised the 14-year minimum sentence for my dad’s killers meant they could be out in 2016.
I joined the victim notification scheme, meaning I’d be informed if the demonic duo had a parole hearing for release, or if they died in prison.
And in 2014 I received a letter saying Haddow, now 68, had been granted early day release to spend time with his family. Called ‘first term release’, it meant he could leave jail for five days at a time. But this monster had tortured my dad to death! Haddow lived just a mile from me. What if I bumped into him? I wrote to Scotland’s then First Minister, Alex Salmond, and saw a lawyer, but I was powerless. Temporary release was part of the Scottish Prison Service’s rehabilitation process for long-term prisoners. Worse still, at his parole meeting in June this year, despite my statement against his release, he was granted his freedom. I stressed about it so much, I had a breakdown. And now I’ve had a letter from Victim Support, advising me that Sturgeon will be going for parole at the end of the year. Now I’m trying to focus on the positives in my life. I’ve bought a house now with my fiancé and I have a new baby nephew. But the thought of Haddow walking the very streets where my dad would have been, if he hadn’t tortured him with his evil sidekick, sickens me. I would do anything to be waiting on that pavement on a Thursday morning, to see Dad’s loving smile. I still miss him every day.
They used a grater to rip skin from his feet