My dear husband was murdered by his Army colleague. So how can his killer be shown mercy?
Widow’s fury after payroll brute sent home to die
THE trail of blood in the fresh snow stretched for one-and-a-half miles along a deserted farm track, leading searchers to the bodies of three soldiers who had been executed by one of their own.
Nearby, an Army Land Rover lay abandoned, awash with blood and bullets, its engine still running. After crashing it, killer Andrew Walker had decided to make his getaway across the fields on foot.
Nearly 29 years on, Susan Thomson, widow of Private John Thomson, still visits the lonely spot in the Pentland Hills each January on the anniversary – except when it’s snowing. Since her husband’s murder, she has been afraid of the snow.
Two years ago this month, Walker, now 59, was granted early release from prison on compassionate grounds by Justice Secretary Kenny MacAskill after suffering a stroke.
As the 29th anniversary of the Glencorse Massacre approaches, it
‘He should never have been allowed out’
emerged last week that Walker is still alive – despite doctors saying he only had months to live. He is in a care home in Lanarkshire, news that has devastated relatives of the dead soldiers.
Last night, Mrs Thomson, who was aged only 19 with a toddler son Bruce when she became a widow, said: ‘Walker showed no compassion to the men he killed and he should have been given none himself. What makes him any different to anyone else?
‘He should never have been allowed out on compassionate grounds. What was Kenny MacAskill thinking about? He was given a sentence and he should have served it, regardless of how ill he is.
‘Walker didn’t just kill three people that day. He gave every one of us a life sentence. I was 19. It should have been the beginning of my life and Walker ruined it. My son was left without a father, as were the children in the other two families. I can still hear Bruce asking where his daddy was and I had to tell him, “He’s gone to Heaven”.’
It was on the morning of Thursday, January 17, 1985 that Walker asked for a lift back to Glencorse Barracks from three Army colleagues who had been collecting wages from the Royal Bank of Scotland in Penicuik, Midlothian. Paymaster Major David Cunningham, 56, who was accompanied by Staff Sergeant Terence Hosker, 39, and Private Thomson, 25, agreed.
But Walker then produced a sub-machine gun, signed out of the armoury that morning, and ordered them to turn left, instead of continuing straight on back to barracks. Witnesses reported seeing the Land Rover driving erratically, indicating a struggle inside. Nearby residents recalled the sound of gunfire.
S/Sgt Hosker took two rounds in the chest, while Major Cunningham was shot through the ear.
Pte Thomson was forced to keep driving up the track, before being ordered to help carry the bodies of his colleagues to a lonely spot near Glencorse Reservoir. Panicking as S/Sgt Hosker’s body twitched, Walker shot three rounds into him. A bullet in his shoulder would link him to the crime, as it matched the weapon signed out by him.
Walker then shot Private Thomson. Driving off, he crashed after skidding in deep snow. As he crossed the fields on foot, he hid £19,000 in cash – which has never been found – before returning to base.
Meanwhile, at their new home in Lasswade – which they had only moved into two days earlier following Pte Thomson’s transfer from Colchester to Glencorse – his young wife was making steak pie for dinner.
Mrs Thomson, from Galashiels, Selkirkshire, said: ‘I remember a strange feeling suddenly came over me. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. The TV was on and our son, who was two-and-ahalf, was watching a programme. I heard something cut in about the search for a missing man. I didn’t pay that much attention to it until the news came on later. Then I heard “Army” and “payroll” and knew instantly something had happened to Johnny.’
Life would never be the same again. She said: ‘Johnny was dead and I was soon asked to leave our Army home. I remember thinking I hadn’t even unpacked everything yet.’
Following Walker’s conviction, judge Lord Grieve recommended he serve at least 30 years in prison. But the sentence was cut by three years on appeal. In 2009, Walker – who had been given a further seven years for leading a riot at Peterhead Prison in 1986 – was left severely disabled following a stroke.
The Scottish Government allowed him to be moved from prison to a care home in December 2011. He was said to be ‘severely incapacitated’, unable to communicate and unlikely to improve. Yesterday, a spokesman for the Scottish Prison Service confirmed he is still alive.
A Scottish Government spokesman said: ‘Decisions about the release of prisoners on compassionate grounds are made only when very specific criteria are met. Compassionate release will only be considered when a prisoner has a terminal illness, is severely incapacitated or where continued imprisonment would endanger or shorten his or her life expectancy.’
Mrs Thomson said: ‘I try to look at everything from every side, but I struggle with the decision to release Walker early. Why did Kenny MacAskill feel he had to do this to us? The fact Walker is still alive two years later makes a mockery of justice. He’s never wanted for anything in prison, while we’ve struggled to piece our lives back together. Do I hate him? Of course I do. He led a riot, wanted compensation, lied about a service medal, appealed his sentence. It’s been like being on an emotional rollercoaster. It felt impossible to get on with life. Now I realise I will never be free of him until he is dead.
‘No one can ever understand how I feel. People seem to think that because so much time has passed that I’m somehow “over it”. But the pain is as raw today as it was then. I still receive counselling. I’ve never been able to go out in the snow since the day Johnny died or settle down with anyone else. I’ve had other relationships but no one can ever
‘Do I hate him? Of course I do’
understand what I’ve been through. I’ve coped with it by putting on a brave face for the world.’
Mrs Thomson also criticised the Army, saying: ‘The Army just didn’t care about those left behind. I don’t think they knew what to do with me. My husband didn’t die in war and he’d been murdered by another soldier. I will always feel very bitter about the way I was treated.
‘It was five weeks before I could bury Johnny and I was told nothing about the circumstances of his death. It was only when Walker went on trial a few months later that I finally learned some of the facts.
‘I was also told the Land Rover the men were in had been destroyed, only to discover afterwards it was hosed down to get rid of the blood and put back into service.
‘A fund was set up for Bruce by the Army, but it was a fight to ever get any money from it. They paid out years after I was led to believe they would and a lot less than I’d been told was there. I felt really let down. Bruce and I would still take legal action against them in a minute, if we could afford it.’
Following Walker’s release, Mrs Thomson wrote to Mr MacAskill, seeking an explanation and asking if he would meet her. But she said: ‘He never did and I got some bland, disappointing reply back.’
Next month, she plans to make her annual pilgrimage to the Pentland Hills. She said: ‘It’s stunningly beautiful and I often find myself thinking how something as terrible could have happened in a place like that. It’s been a long time, but for me it seems like it was only yesterday. I keep a tally of the years, months and days since then in my head.’
Gazing at a photo of her young son, an oversized Glengarry on his head and laughing in his father’s arms, she added sadly: ‘I don’t know what’s going through Walker’s head as he lies there, but I hope it’s remorse – although I doubt it.’