Case 342: Julia Wallace

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“Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents.”

If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local Crisis Center. For suggested phone numbers for confidential support and for a more detailed list of content warnings, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. At around 7pm on Monday, January 19, 1931, the telephone rang at Coddle City Cafe on North John Street in the English port city of Liverpool. Waitress clad as Harley picked up.

On the line was an unfamiliar elderly sounding man with a deep voice who asked quickly, "Is that the central chess club?" Liverpool's central chess club was meeting at the cafe that evening, as it did every Monday and Thursday throughout Autumn, winter and early spring. The club consisted of a small group of mostly amateur players who's informal and friendly matches were often played among the tables on the bustling main restaurant floor. The man on the telephone asked, "Is William Wallace there?"

Gladys recognized many of the chess clubs members by site, but she didn't know most of their names. Unsure whether William was among the crowd that evening, she approached the club's captain Samuel Beatty and asked, "Is William Wallace here?" Samuel had a known William through the club for eight years. The 52-year-old initially came across as shy and reserved, but over time developed a reputation as a pleasant, likable gentleman. He wasn't a regular attendee at the club, appearing as little as once a fortnight, telling others it was because he disliked to leaving his wife alone at night.

In fact, William hadn't been seen at the club since before Christmas, but he was expected to appear that evening first scheduled match in the second-class championship.

The highly anticipated tournament had been planned two months in advance, with the first prize of ten chillings and a second prize of five. But when Samuel Beatty glanced around the cafe, he didn't see William there. This wasn't unusual, as most club members didn't arrive until between 730 and 8. Samuel went to the telephone and took the call on William's behalf. He didn't recognise the call as strong, slightly gruff voice.

When Samuel informed him that William had an arrived, the man asked, "Can you give me his address?" "I'm afraid I can't, Samuel replied. The man then asked, "But will he be there?" "I can't say, Samuel answered. He may or may not. If he is coming, he will be surely. I suggest you ring up later."

“The caller said he was too busy to ring back and distressed the matters important, explaining that it was his daughter's 21st birthday,”

and that he wished to arrange something for her that fell within William's nature of business. I want to see him, particularly, the man insisted, before asking Samuel to pass on a message.

25 men love God and Seast, in the southeast suburb of Mosley Hill.

“Samuel repeated the details which the caller confirmed. He also gave his name, R.M. Quotra.”

[Music] Not long after the call, Samuel Beatty noticed a tall, thin, bespect-to-good man with a grey mustache, seated near the cafe entrance, absorbed in a chess match. It was William Wallace. He had arrived, discreetly, moments earlier, removed his hat and coat, and quietly settled into play his tournament game. Samuel relayed the message from R.M. Quotra to William, who responded, "Quotra. Quotra. Who is Quotra?"

He asked whether the man was a member of the chess club, which Samuel denied.

“"I don't know the chap," William said, adding that he'd never heard of men love God and Seast either.”

When he suggested that the address might have been men love Avenue, also in Mosley Hill, Samuel assured him it was not.

William never the less recorded Quotra's name, and the men love God and Seast dress in his pocket diary, scrolling east in big block letters.

He then turned his attention back to his chess game, which concluded at 10 pm in William's victory. He lighted, he animatedly recounted the match as he left the cafe with several other club members. Yet the peculiar request from R.M. Quotra lingered on his mind. He brought up the unfamiliar men-love garden's address to a fellow chess club member during the evening, and to the others as they journeyed home.

“No one else had heard of it either, but they also suspected it might be somewhere off the more well-known men-love Avenue,”

and offered suggestions on how William could get there. William jokingly remarked that he belonged to Liverpool, and was therefore confident he could find his way once he reached the general area. After all, he knew men love Avenue quite well. The road ran alongside a park he sometimes visited with his wife to see the roses. As for Quotra, William had little to say beyond the fact it was a peculiar name.

The following morning of Tuesday, January 20, 1931, William Wallace set off for work as an insurance agent for the potential assurance company. His job required him to charge through the drizzley weather, making house calls to clients and collecting payments. As William walked to one of his many appointments that day, he passed the police constable who had known him for around two years. According to the constable, William kept his head down and appeared to dab his eyes with the sleeve of his coat as if he'd been crying.

He also seemed uncharacteristically haggard and withdrawn, like he was distressed about something. The clients who William visited throughout the day described his mood differently. They record him being his usual gentlemanly self, polite, jovial and smiling. He gratefully accepted a cup of tea from one client and cheerfully remarked to another, "Let's hope it's going to stay this way, when blue skies suddenly appeared." He admired the beautiful flowers in another's window, and told a fourth that he looked forward to seeing her again in three weeks' time for their next appointment.

One person remarked that they had never met a nice man than William Wallace.

All of William's clients agreed that he was perfectly normal and quite his usual self that day. None of them got the impression that he had been crying or distressed. They attributed his tired appearance and habit of dabbing at his eyes to the cold weather and poor health. William was a sickly man. He had lost one of his kidneys to disease and a doctor's a told him that he only had a few years left to live as a result.

The only thing William's clients noted was that he would repeatedly ask for the time and check his watch during meetings,

“but this was considered a normal habit of his. He was highly time conscious as he relied on public transport.”

He also had upwards of 560 households to make after falling behind after recently taking time off sick. For the past week, William had been largely housebound as he recovered from a severe bout of influenza, something he'd mentioned to just club members the night before. He said he wouldn't have attended if not for the longer weighted tournament match, preferring to rest at home.

Some noticed the slight huskiness in his voice, suggesting he was still on the man.

William's wife, 52-year-old Julia Wallace, had also been unwell lately. She remained mostly at home, telling visitors that she had a touch of bronchitis. In truth, Julia had suffered a series of worsening illnesses and had recently begun coughing up blood.

“Concerned, William had called a doctor who advised him not to be alarmed and offered guidance on easing her symptoms.”

In the words of a friend, the winter months tried Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. Even when unwell, Julia Wallace remained her gentle, caring self, offering to make tea for a family member who dropped by to check in on her. When they offered her theatre tickets for later in the week, she doubted she would be well enough to attend. William, by contrast, was fairing much better. Not only had he managed to return to work, Julia mentioned that he had attended his chess club the night before. She also said that he had plans again that evening, having received a telephone call from someone who wished to meet him in person about insurance business.

The conversation then shifted to a recent spade of burglaries in the area. Just before 6pm, William finished with his last client of the day and headed straight home. He sat out again a short while later to keep his 730 appointment with RM Qualtra. By 706, he was spotted waiting for a tram car at the junction of Smithdown Road and Lodge Lane, just over two miles from his home. When the tram arrived, William asked if it went to men-love gardens, stressing east.

The conductor said no, but told him to stay on, explaining the tram would reach a nearby terminus where he could transfer to another that went to the area.

“During the journey, William remarked that he was a stranger in Mosley Hill and something to the effect that he had important business there.”

He mentioned men-love gardens east upwards of four times and urged the conductor not to forget that that was where he was heading.

At the terminus, William hurriedly boarded a second a tram car that he had been told went to Mosley Hill.

He spoke to its conductor, requesting to be let off that men-love gardens east. The conductor agreed, but said the closest stop to William's destination was men-love gardens west. Upon arriving in Mosley Hill, the conductor back in William and explained that men-love gardens was triangular, consisting of three roads. He pointed out two roads running off on the right and suggested that men-love gardens east was probably one of them. William thanked the conductor, adding, "I am a complete stranger around here, before disembarking the tram."

William then stopped a pass-up by to ask for directions. She said she didn't know where men-love gardens east was, but suggested it might be further along men-love gardens west. William continued only to find the road-ended at a junction with a thoroughfare called Dudlo Lane. He retraced his steps and approached another pass-up by. In a strange turn of events, William was told that while men-love gardens north south and west existed, there was no men-love gardens east.

William suggested that there must have been a mistake in the message he was given and headed to 25 men-love gardens west instead.

When William asked if anyone named Qualtra lived at the premises, the lady responded, "No."

“William had no hope of finding his destination on men-love gardens south or north as those streets only contained even numbered residences.”

He eventually came across a local police constable performing his rounds and asked him about men-love gardens east. The officer replied, "There's no such place." William explained that he was an insurance agent and had received a call from a man named Qualtra requesting his presence at 25 men-love gardens east. He spelled out the name for the constable who didn't know anyone by that name in the district. The constable suggested that William and Qualtra at 25 men-love avenue, a street William was already familiar with and had long suspected might be the place he was meant to visit.

William thanked him and as he started to walk away, asked if there was somewhere he could consult a directory, a printed book listing the contact details and addresses of local businesses and residents.

“The constable pointed him toward a nearby post office and police station.”

William then asked, "It's not either clock yet, is it?" Before the officer could answer, William checked his watch and stated that it was a quarter to wait. The constable confirmed at the time and to William bid him good night before heading off in the direction of the post office. The post office was closed, so William checked with the news agency across the road. He spent several minutes searching through their directory before asking the shop manager about the address he was trying to find.

Like the others, she told him that it simply didn't exist. After spending about 45 minutes trying to figure out where he was supposed to go, William finally gave up and returned home. Shortly before 8.45 that night, married couple John and Florence Johnston were getting ready to go out when they heard knocking on the door of a nearby home from their living room.

The sound was familiar, distinct, and delivered in the same pattern their neighbor, William Wallace, always used.

William lived in next door to the Johnston's in one of the many near identical two-story Victorian brick terrace houses that stood Walter Wall along Wolverton Street in Liverpool's Anfield district. Over the next few minutes, the Johnston's heard William Wallace's distinctive knock at least three times. At 8.45, as the couple stepped out the back door of their home and into the alley behind it, William passed by in a hurry. Looking worried, he was striding toward the rear of his house. His manner griss and purposeful.

As the Johnston's greeted William in passing, he surprised them by asking anxiously if they had heard anything unusual that evening. John and Florence hadn't, and they asked if something had happened. I've been out since quarter to seven, William explained. On my return, I find the front door bolted against me. John asked if he had tried the back door.

Yes, William replied, "I couldn't open it." He was concerned, as his wife Julia was supposed to be home, and he was certain she wouldn't have gone out because she was sick.

“John suggested he tried the back door again, and if it still wouldn't budge, they could help fetch a spare key.”

The Johnston's watch does William approach to the door and twist it at hand all. It swung open easily at his touch. It opens now, he shouted to the Johnston's. "I will see if everything is all right," he remarked, as he stepped into the unlet kitchen. John said they would wait until everything was confirmed to be in order, and William didn't discourage them.

Except for a dim light from the second floor, the house was incomplete darkness.

The Johnston saw light flicker in other rooms as William moved from space to space, lighting matches to illuminate the gas lamps within. Heavy blinds and curtains blocked the view from outside, but they heard William call out twice, presumably to Julia, though they couldn't make out what he was saying. About five minutes later, William emerged from the house looking distraught.

The Johnston's followed William into the house, fearing that Julia might have had a fatal accident, perhaps a fall down the stairs.

“After passing through the kitchen into the hallway, the trio entered the parlor, or sitting room, towards the front of the house.”

A gas lamp cast light on the compact, well-capped, and richly decorated space. The Wallace home, where the childless couple had lived for 16 years, was a picture of a dignified domesticity. Potted plants, framed photographs, floral patent cushions, and paintings of landscape and pastoral scenes adorned the parlor. In front of a large window, draped with deep burgundy velvet curtains, stood a small cluster of well-worn furniture, including a low-armchair and a shays lounge.

They were arranged around the room's focal point, a dark, ornately carved wooden fireplace, which featured a small grate for a gas fire.

Sprawed out on a black rug in front of the fireplace, was Julia Wallace. She was faced down with her head turned toward the piano she loved to play. It's lead open with a book of music on the stand. A pool of blood had formed around her head, and was spattered on the striped beige-toned wallpaper on the nearby walls.

“Bone and brain matter was visible from a three-inch wound above and in front of Julia's left ear.”

There were further depressions to the back of her skull, but her matted hair obscured the full extent of the damage. Nothing else in the room appeared to have been disturbed.

Florence Johnston gently touched Julia's extended hand, and said softly, "You poured darling."

She was still warm, though barely. William Wallace's initial distress and agitation gave way to what appeared to be a profound shock. His face was pale as he stooped beside his wife's lifeless body and felt her hand. They finished her, he repeated, his voice trembling.

“He noticed her rings were missing, though he wasn't certain if she had been wearing them that day.”

I wonder what they have used, he murmured, seemingly pondering the murder weapon. He ran his hand along the edge of the rug, padding it as if checking for anything hidden underneath. John told him not to disturb anything and said he was going to fetch the police. William urged him to hurry, saying, "And the doctor too, but I don't think it will do any good." The trio stepped back into the kitchen where William wondered about in a bewildered days.

The kitchen appeared relatively normal, though Julia hadn't tidied up after dinner, suggesting she'd been attacked before she had the chance to do so. Three coins lay scattered on the floor, a half crown and two shillings, and William pointed to a damaged cabinet in the corner. It's door rested in two broken pieces nearby. See, they've wrenched to that off, he said, implying that damage was caused by someone ransacking the otherwise intact space. William moved to the cabinet that's up a shelves mostly filled with books.

From the left side of the top shelf, he took down a cash box. John asked if anything was taken. The box typically held the insurance payments William had collected from his clients the previous week, which he was due to hand over to his employer the following day. There was only a crumpled American $1 bill and four penny stamps inside.

Four pounds were missing, the equivalent of roughly £350 today. William returned the box to their shelf. The Jonstans didn't think he appeared overly concerned about the missing money. Before going to the police, John wanted to ensure everything was all right upstairs. William ascended the staircase alone and returned minutes later to report that several pounds in a jar upstairs had been left untouched.

John departed and William and Florence briefly returned to Julia's body.

Look at the brains, William muttered, but Florence couldn't bear to.

“He scanned the room and asked, "Whatever have they used?"”

Nothing stood out as having been used in the attack. William circled his wife's body, carefully stepping over the bloodsputter, and pointed out a steel grey macintosh partially tucked around her. Often shortened to Mac, a macintosh isn't overcoat made from rubberized cotton, making it waterproof. It was a popular item in the UK at the time, suited to the wet climate before trench coats became common.

Is it your macintosh, Florence asked, William?

Yes, it is mine, he replied, while smoothing some of the blood soaked fabric with these fingertips. As they waited for the police, Florence sat with William in the kitchen and asked if he wanted anything. With his hair in his hands, he said he did not. He kept muttering to himself, and occasionally ignored Florence as she spoke, as if she weren't even there. He then busied himself by stoking the kitchen half.

By the time the police arrived at around 9.10pm, William and Florence were in the lobby by the front door. A constable knot, but when Florence tried to open it, she found it wouldn't budge, just like William had noticed earlier. The lock was different from those in her own home, and after a brief struggle, she said to William, "You had better do it." He stepped forward, drew back the bolt, and opened the door with ease. Come inside Officer, something terrible has happened, William announced.

He led the way into the house, where the officer saw Julia's body and asked, "How did this happen?" William recounted the events leading up to the grim discovery. He stated he had left home at 6.45pm, with the Julia bidding him farewell from the alley behind their house. William explained how he had spent nearly an hour wandering aimlessly around Mosley Hill, searching for a fictitious address given to him the previous night by a mysterious caller named R.M. Aqualtra.

He said he became uneasy when he was told that the address didn't exist, and mindful of the recent sped of burglaries in Antfield hurried back home.

“His key wouldn't work in the front door as it had been bolted from the inside.”

He tried the back door, which was closed, but unbolted, but it wouldn't open on the first attempt.

After alerting his neighbours, he tried again. "I entered the house, and this is what I found," William said, referring to his budget wife. After giving his statement, William sank into a chair in the kitchen. His complexion was solo, his shoulders heaved, and he sobbed intermittently. As countless police officers crowded his house, examining and re-examining every ancient item, William remarked,

Julia would have gone mad if she had seen all this. William accompanied officers as they inspected each room. In the kitchen, he pointed out the cash box atop the cabinet, suggesting some money had been taken. When asked where he had found the box that evening, William answered, where it is now, the investigators found it odd that the box remained neatly on the shelf with its lid closed.

“Why would a violent intruder bother to leave it so tidy?”

William merely shrugged, saying nothing. Upstairs in the main bedroom, William collected a small ornamental jar from a mental piece and pulled out several one-pound notes, stating they didn't seem to have been touched by any intruders. The officers immediately ordered him to return the notes and jar back to their original position, cautioning him not to disturb anything else that might be important for their investigation.

This was despite the police's own carelessness while searching the Wallace home, where key items were handled by multiple offices and then often returned to different locations or positions.

A bathroom appeared equally unremarkable, though we attend the main bedroom with the only upstairs rooms with lights on. The rest were in complete darkness.

“With tortures in hand, the officers crossed the landing to a second room at the back,”

which William had converted into a hobby laboratory. It had all started with a microscope he had purchased for 80 pounds, which he considered money well spent as it had become his most prized possession. Williams' fascination with chemistry, botany and biology ran deep.

He had first studied these subjects about 10 years earlier at technical college,

later serving five years as a part-time assistant lecturer in chemical studies. It was his dream to make some sort of scientific discovery. His laboratory contained numerous tools that police noted could be used as weapons. As their torches swept over shelves stacked with bottles, chemicals and specimens, they asked William to check if anything was missing.

“Everything's all right here, he confirmed.”

They moved on to a third room at the front, used as a spare bedroom. The bed within was in disarray, with pillows on the floor,

and sheets and blankets pulled aside, exposing the mattress.

On the bed, lay two of Julia's handbags and three of her hats, though a wardrobe into drawers nearby were closed. When asked if the room had to look like this earlier, William replied, "I cannot say, claiming he hadn't stepped foot in it for a fortnight." It was the only room in the house that was significantly disturbed,

yet to police, the bedding appeared deliberately flung rather than ruffled through. Jury belonging to Julia was found in the drawers,

“further indicating that the room hadn't been truly ransacked.”

Did you see anyone hanging around the house or inside it when you returned,

the police asked William? Shaking his head, he replied, "No." Neighbours, John and Florence, Johnston hadn't seen anything suspicious either. There were no signs of forced entry on any doors or windows, but William asserted that Julia wouldn't have let anyone inside,

unless she knew them personally. Nevertheless, police searched all lodging houses, all night cafes, railway station waiting rooms, and the homes of no criminals for anyone with blood stains on their skin or clothing. The intensive search for a suspect continued through the night to no result.

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Thank you for listening to this episode's ad. By supporting our sponsors, you support Case file to continue to deliver quality content. Back at Wolverton Street, a police officer pointed out the rumpled McIntosh around to Julia Wallace's body. William explained that it was an old one of his, before gesturing towards a whole stand where it usually hung.

He had worn it that morning to shield himself from the rain, but left it at home during his lunch break as the weather cleared by the afternoon. Curiously, the McIntosh bought scorch marks near the right hem, which William insisted hadn't been present when he last wore it. Three horizontal burn marks on the front of Julia's bloodstained skirt matched to those on the coat, leading police to speculate that both had come into contact with the hot clays of the gas file.

This suggested that after being struck, Julia and the McIntosh had fallen against the fire.

Given that her otherwise neat hairstyle was in disarray, she had also likely been dragged by her hair.

How the McIntosh ended up with the Julia remained a mystery, since she had no plans to go out that evening. Perhaps she had draped it over herself to ward off the chill when opening the door to her attacker. This would explain why identical scorch marks were found on her skirt.

“But police began to suspect the McIntosh played a crucial role in the crime,”

reasoning that no one could have committed such a brutal, messy murder without getting large amounts of blood on themselves.

The killer must have worn the coat to protect themselves from the spatter.

Perhaps it was scorched because they attempted to destroy it in the fire, but quickly realized that the resulting smoke, odor and flames might alert witnesses before they could escape, so they pulled it away. Although William had freely admitted to four different people that the coat was his, he suddenly clamped off when asked about it further. William was widely regarded as an intelligent man. To the police, it appeared that he realized that the McIntosh

“was a significant and potentially incriminating piece of evidence, and that speaking about it could put him at risk.”

Shortly before 10pm, a medical examiner named Professor John McFall arrived at Wolverton Street to examine Julia's body in situ. From the blood spatter, he concluded that Julia had likely been sitting on the edge of a chair to the right of the fireplace, her head slightly forward and turned a little to the left, as if speaking to someone.

The first and most severe blow caused the deep laceration in front of a left ear.

After collapsing, McFall believed she had been struck three or four more times with terrific force, causing her scalp to burst open.

“Apart from these head injuries and a small recent bruise on the inside of her upper left arm, no other marks of violence were found on her body.”

Based on signs of rigor mortise, Julia's neck and the upper part of her left arm, along with the consistency of the blood pulled around her head, Professor McFall estimated she was killed at around 750pm. Before Professor McFall's arrival, the police had briefly inspected the upstairs bathroom and found nothing of interest. However, McFall spotted a small blood stain on the rim of the white porcelain toilet bowl. He suggested it had been overlooked due to the rim's light casting a shadow over the bowl, and because the police had only used handheld torches during their initial check.

The stain, no larger than a small pea, was divided into two parts, a central circular clot and a faint streak extending towards the center of the bowl. Tests confirmed it was human blood and not of menstrual origin. To McFall, the blood's presence indicated that after attacking Julia, her killer had cleaned themselves in the bathroom, inadvertently splattering blood into the nearby toilet. This was highly unusual. A random intruder would be expected to flee the crime scene immediately, maximizing their chance of escape.

Even if they intended to wash up, it would have made more sense to do so in the ground floor kitchen where a quick exit out the back door was available, rather than in the upstairs bathroom. A cleaning brush in the bathroom was partially wet, but not bloody. Every other surface, including a white towel, draped over the bathtub, was completely clear. The toilet, its waste pipes, the bathroom basin, and the kitchen sink were removed and examined, yet not even microscopic traces of blood were found. A thorough inspection of the Wallace House revealed no further evidence of blood beyond the parlor and bathroom.

As the initial examination of the crime scene was winding down, William Wallace agreed to attend the police station to make a formal statement. By now, investigators were viewing William with suspicion. In their view, he seemed too quiet and too collected for a husband who had just been confronted with his wife's shocking murder. One detective remarked, "I didn't see any sign of emotion in him at all."

At the station, he was asked again whether he had noticed anyone moving about the house when he returned from men-love gardens.

“This time, William said he thought someone might have been in the house because he couldn't open either the front or back doors.”

The implication was that the killer was still present when William arrived at the locked-down house.

As he moved back and forth, trying to get in, the killer fled through the back, leaving the door unlocked and allowing William to finally enter.

As William was being questioned, Julie's body was removed from the wall as home, along with several items considered significant, including her handbags, the three coins found on the kitchen floor, and the ornamental jar from the main bedroom that contained the one-pound notes. A detective placed the folded notes in an envelope and took them to police headquarters where he counted them before handing them to a station officer for safekeeping. During this process, he noticed that the top note was smeared with blood along the left-hand side.

It appeared to have been caused by a bloodstained finger or thumb being swiped across the surface.

It seemed highly unlikely that after killing Julia, a random thief would have handled the notes, yet ultimately left of them in the jar,

especially since money had been taken from the cash box in the kitchen.

“Why would a thief steal some money, but leave the rest behind?”

Investigators considered the simplest explanation to be that William had transferred the blood onto the money while handling it in front of them, implying that his hands bore blood from the murderer. However, it was also possible that William had picked it up from the bloodstained Macintosh he had touched before the police arrived. Examination of his hands revealed no trace of blood nor any sign that they had been recently washed. In fact, William's entire body and clothing bore no traces of blood, even when chemically tested.

This didn't mean William could be ruled out as a suspect.

“It simply added credence to the police's theory that the killer used the Macintosh to protect themselves from the blood sputter.”

Yet, cross-contamination during the police search was also plausible. Seven hours had passed between the start of the investigation and the discovery of the bloodstained note, during which countless officers had handled items repeatedly without documenting or photographing them. In fact, the first photograph of Julia Wallace at the scene was taken only after the Macintosh had been moved away from her body. It was then left a bunched up by her side, with no effort made to restore it to its original position.

This made it hard to definitively prove whether she had been wearing it, or if her killer had left it behind. The Wallace's kitchen had only been photographed after almost all of the evidence was already seized, including the broken cabinet, coins and cash box. Worse still, a detective who arrived at the scene intoxicated went upstairs and flushed the toilet where the stray bloodstained had been found. At the police station, William was asked, "Is there nothing more you'd like to tell us, Mr. Wallace?"

He shook his head. When asked if he was sure, he replied, "What about?" After a lengthy silence, the interview concluded and William was allowed to leave. He wished to return home, saying he didn't want to put anyone out by staying elsewhere that night. It was an absurd request as his home was still an active crime scene. When the police refused, William grew irritated, but ultimately went to stay with family.

As news of Julia Wallace's murder spread, so did Word that her husband was the prime suspect. Yet, nearly everyone interviewed by police described the couple as devoted partners who never quarreled.

Among the few rare negative opinions were a woman who disliked them both and a family doctor who sensed some callousness in their relationship. The overwhelming majority attested that the Wallace home was characterized by mutual trust and happiness.

Otherwise, by all accounts, life was good.

“Visitors recalled the Wallace's joy in making music together. Julia at the piano and William on the violin.”

Julia was a devoted wife who took great pleasure in caring for her husband. Someone noted that Julia had concerns about William's makeshift laboratory, but not in the way one would expect. Julia thought the room was too cold and damp, and she simply wanted her husband to be comfortable.

John and Florence Johnston, who were to live the next door to the Wallace's for 10 years, said they had never heard anything concerning coming from the household.

The walls were so thin that they could hear Julia playing the piano clearly enough to know her entire repertoire almost by heart. They were confident that if the Wallace's had ever had even the slightest argument, they would have heard it.

“The Johnston's also had a different opinion of William so-called quiet and unemotional behavior on the night of the murder.”

They had sat with him throughout the ordeal, and had seen him break down in sobs, only to compose himself whenever the police approached, so he could answer their questions as co-herently as possible. Others who knew William said he had acted appropriately in the aftermath of Julia's death.

A stoic introvert, he avoided displaying emotions publicly, which explained why he appeared calm or even indifferent to round the police.

Yet, when among friends and family, William broke down in tears and expressed his heartbreak. On the night he discovered Julia's body, he couldn't even bring himself to one dress for bed, tearfully saying, "I shall miss her terribly." Meanwhile, two police officers were assigned to guard the Wallace home until the crime scene examination could resume at daybreak.

“To pass the time, one officer browsed the kitchen shelves for a book.”

Most were scientific works, though a few literary classics were mixed in.

At the end of a shelf, stacked atop one another, were four large diaries covering the years 1928 to 1931.

Flipping through them, the officer realized they were the personal diaries of William Wallace. William was a meticulous record keeper, noting his height, weight, age, and even his hat, collar and glove sizes in each entry. The diaries depicted a relatively uneventful life in dispersed with his personal reflections on a wide range of subjects from philosophy to astronomy. Occasionally, he recorded minor differences of opinion with the Julia. For example, her lack of enthusiasm for a radio play he had enjoyed, or his own in difference to religion, despite her attending Christian services every Sunday.

Yet, the tone of these entries suggested they weren't serious disagreements, merely observations he deemed worth deliberating. On Saturday, January 7, 1928, three years before Julia's murder, William noted that he had fallen out with his wife. The cause? She was buying too many newspapers. This was the only recorded instance of a conflict between them. The rest of his entries depicted a content if mundane married life.

He expressed the genuine concern for Julia on multiple occasions, such as when she arrived home late one evening after being delayed by a train derailment. He wrote, "It was a relief to know she was safe and sound, for I was getting apprehensive, fearing that she might have been run over by a motor car or something." In one of the final entries before Julia's death, William described persuading her to take a night walk in a local park. He wrote in detailed prose about the wintery atmosphere, including the heavy fog and the frost-covered trees, describing the scene as wonderfully beautiful.

He noted that Julia was equally charmed. On Wednesday, January 21, 1931, the morning after Julia Wallace's murder, William attended the police station again to answer further questions.

Over night, they had received an anonymous, but unsubstantiated call accusing William of infertility with their housemaid.

“William denied the claim stating he had never employed a full-time domestic helper.”

For the past nine months, however, a cleaner had been coming to help Julia with household chores on Wednesdays. The arrangement had been William's idea as Julia's strength had been whining. He claimed he didn't even know the cleanest name as she worked a half day while he was at work. The police tracked the woman down. Her name was Sarah Draper.

Sarah denied any romantic relationship with William and explained that she had not visited the Wallace home for two weeks due to her husband's recent death.

During her previous visits, she said she cleaned the house thoroughly with the Julia assisting as best she could.

“Because Sarah knew the Wallace home intimately, she was asked to inspect her for anything missing.”

She identified two items, a metal poker from the kitchen and a large piece of iron from the parlor, where Julia had been killed. The iron was roughly a foot-long and as thick as a candle, typically used to rake cigarette ends and spent matches from beneath the gas fire. Sarah recalled seeing it during her last visit, having used it to retrieve a screw that had rolled under the fireplace.

Following this discovery, William Wallace was escorted back to his home to conduct his own search.

He made no mention of the missing poker or iron piece. When asked directly, he suggested the poker might have been misplaced or discarded during the police search and claimed to know nothing about the iron.

“Medical Examiner, Professor John MacFall, who would by then carried out Julia's autopsy, was asked whether the iron piece could have been the murder weapon.”

He had amended his previous findings, now stating that Julia had been struck upwards of 12 times instead of four. After consideration, MacFall concluded that given its size and shape, the piece of iron could have been capable of delivering the blows that killed Julia Wallace. However, Sarah Draper had described the object as heavily rusted. This raised a doubt about whether it could have withstood 12 intense strikes to Julia's skull. Even if it had, no traces of rust were found in her wounds.

Nevertheless, finding the iron piece became a top priority for the police. They reasoned that a random intruder would have no reason to remove or dispose of the weapon, whereas William Wallace might. The search focused on the areas William had travelled that night from Wolverton Street to Menlove Gardens. And nearby Park frequently visited by William was highlighted as the most likely disposal site. Since it seemed unlikely he would have carried a large bloodstained piece of iron any further, even if concealed beneath his coat or up his sleeve.

The days, scores of policemen, aided by sanitation department workers, combed these areas, including bins, drains and sewers. Neither the iron piece, the kitchen poker, nor any other object that could plausibly serve as the murder weapon was found. As the police worked to locate and interview everyone, William Wallace had come into contact with before the murder. One person remained elusive, R.M. Quatra, the one individual who could make or break the case. Investigators were convinced of one thing.

Whoever had placed the Quatra call to cuddle city cafe was responsible for Julia Wallace's murder. According to William, it was Julia who had convinced him to make Quatra as he was initially unsure about it. Based on the little information Quatra had provided, it appeared he wanted to arrange an endowment policy for his daughter as some sort of coming of age gift. If so, successfully securing such a deal would have earned William a decent commission. Assuming William was innocent, the Quatra call appeared designed to lure him from the house, leaving it vulnerable.

The Wallace's were financially comfortable, but not wealthy.

Still, she was known to walk around with her handbag wide open.

“This absent-minded habit might have caught the attention of an opportunistic thief who perceived the Wallace home as an easy target.”

Perhaps the intruder hadn't expected Julia to be home that evening, or the decision to kill her arose spontaneously, driven by panic or self-preservation rather than pre-meditation. If Julia had been the intended target and someone close to her habit emotive, the police were unable to uncover it. 14 families with the Quatra surname were identified in the Liverpool area, yet none had any knowledge of the call that triggered the events leading to Julia Wallace's murder. The call assumed that Quatra knew William would attend the chess club on Monday, January 19.

This was a crucial detail since William didn't always go to club meetings and had been absent for about a month.

On the night of the call, he had been booked for a tournament match that had been arranged two months earlier. The schedule had been publicly displayed on a notice board at the cafe during that time. William was also recorded as playing on Mondays roughly every fortnight, which could have led someone to safely assume he would attend the Monday night before the murder. Still, William insisted that no one could have known for certain that he would be there. He also said he almost didn't go as he was still recovering from influenza.

“Was it merely a coincidence that everything aligned perfectly for Quatra that evening?”

Or had it all been masterfully orchestrated? After checking with the local telephone exchange, which in 1931 manually connected calls via switchboard operators, the Quatra call was traced to a public telephone box in the Wallace's neighborhood of Hanfield, roughly a two-minute walk from their home. The call had been made at 7.15 pm, roughly 45 minutes before William appeared at the cafe, opening the possibility that he could have placed it himself and then hurried to appear unaware.

Curiously, two calls had been made.

“The first reached at the switchboard operators, but due to an indesertable error failed to connect to Coddle City Cafe.”

Quatra called back minutes later, and this second call placed at around 720 successfully went through.

William provided a detailed timeline of his movements that evening, stating he left home at 7.15 pm and walked to a tram that carried him to the cafe. This meant he was still at or just leaving home when the first unsuccessful call from Quatra was placed. The police made no effort to seek independent verification of this account. They did, however, interview those who had direct contact with Quatra, including Cafe Waitress, Glitus Harley, and Samuel Beatty, captain of Liverpool's central chess club.

Glitus described the man as sounding quite ordinary, and aside from seeming elderly, had nothing further to add. He didn't sound nervous or agitated, and his voice bore no unusual accents or impediment, though he pronounced the word Cafe in a slightly distinctive way. Samuel characterized the voice as, "strong and gruff, ready of utterance, confident, definite in knowing what to say, perimptory." Having known William Wallace personally for eight years, Samuel didn't believe it was him on the line. The police considered that William could have disguised these voice when making the call.

When this possibility was put to Samuel Beatty, he responded, "It would take a great stretch of the imagination." In an attempt to unsettle William and provoke him into incriminating himself, the police divulged that the call from Quatra had been traced to a public telephone boxing and filled and was placed around 7pm. William listened intently, but remained composed. He seemed oblivious to the implications the police were drawing, that he might have made the call himself. After this, William walked to a tram stop where he unexpectedly encountered three members of Liverpool's central chess club, including the club's captain Samuel Beatty.

As a friend, Samuel cautioned William not to discuss his troubles, warning that anything he said might be misconstrued.

“William ignored the advice and asked if Samuel could remember anything about the call from Quatra, specifically the time that was placed.”

Samuel guessed around 7pm or shortly after. William pressed for a more precise time, but Samuel apologized, "I can't." Well, it's important to me, William insisted, persisting for a concrete time. Samuel remained unwilling to commit. After an awkward silence, William remarked, "I've just left the police. They've cleared me." The other man expressed their relief and the conversation shifted to Julia's funeral. "I don't want any fuss," William said of the service.

“The man then boarded a tram together before ultimately going their separate ways.”

Unbeknownst to William and undercover police officer had followed him to the tram stop and overheard the entire conversation. All of the men involved, including William, were interviewed and confirmed what had been said. Notably, William offered a cryptic remark about why he pressed Samuel beady for the time of the Quatra call. "I have an idea. We all have ideas. It was in discreet of me." The tram stop conversation yielded what the police interpreted as three damning findings against William Wallace.

“First, he's insistence for a precise time of the Quatra call appeared suspiciously defensive, as though he sensed danger.”

Second, was he's remarked, "I've just left the police. They've cleared me."

The police had never suggested to William that he was a suspect, nor implied he faced any charges.

Yet, he was far from naive. Even without explicit warnings, he would have realized the extent of the investigation and that his story was under scrutiny. After all, he had said to them, "I have an idea. We all have ideas. In playing, that people were drawing conclusions about him." William explained that his cleared me remark arose from his interpretation of the call's timing. After being told that had been traced to around 7pm, he was led to believe the police knew he couldn't have made it, since he had left home at 715.

The third red flag was William's remark. It was in discreet of me when referring to questioning Samuel about the call.

William admitted that his line of questioning could appear suspicious, and from that moment, refrain from discussing the case in casual conversation. If William had been the killer, the qualtra call offered a convenient alibi. By giving him a reason to leave home on the evening of January 20, it created a window in which the murder could plausibly have been carried out while he was ostensibly away. Despite the mounting suspicion against William, the scientific evidence seemed to actually detract from the case against him.

Julia's time of death, as initially reported by medical examiner, Professor John McFall, in his first report, was 750pm when William was seen wandering around men-love gardens. From a medical standpoint, this ruled him out as the killer. However, among the several alterations, Professor McFall made to his initial report was a revision of Julia's estimated time of death. He had since changed it from 750 to 6pm. This was hugely damning for William Wallace, suggesting that Julia had been murdered before his trip to men-love gardens.

He insisted that Julia was alive when he left, stating that he had eaten scones for dinner together beforehand.

The kitchen's dirty plates and cutlery supported his account. Yet, Professor McFall never examined to Julia's stomach contents during the autopsy.

Had he done so, the presence of the scones would have confirmed or contradicted William's story, providing the investigation with proof if he was lying or not.

The stop was roughly two miles from the Wallace home, a 40-minute walk at a moderate pace, leading police to suspect William disposed of the murder weapon along this stretch.

“He denied walking altogether, stating that he had reached Smithdown Road by boarding a tramp near his home.”

Investigators were either unable or unwilling to find anyone who could corroborate this trip. However, they did locate someone who confirmed that William often walked along distances to save money on tramp theirs.

Police tracked down witnesses who had encountered William Wallace from Smithdown Road onwards, including tram conductors, passes by,

and even the police constable he spoke to in-man-love gardens, and the manager of the news agency he visited seeking directions. After reviewing their accounts, the police grew increasingly convinced that William had deliberately made the journey to men-love gardens to establish an alibi.

“Their suspicion rested on three key observations.”

William repeatedly reminded the tram conductors of his intention to go to men-love gardens east, almost as if imprinting the detail on their memory. He approached multiple people, including a police officer, even after being told the address didn't exist, seemingly to secure as many witnesses as possible. And when walking away from the officer, he deliberately mentioned the time as a quarter to eight, and had the officer confirmed it, as though trying to establish a precise record of his presence in the area.

William explained that he only inquired about the time because the officer had given him directions to a post office, and he believed the business would be closed by APM.

“William also claimed that he had mostly followed the same route home, but no witnesses, including tram conductors or passengers, came forward to report having seen him.”

One woman claimed she had seen William in the alley by the back entry of Wolverton Street, talking to another figure in a dark overcoat and cap, whom she described as being about five foot eight inches tall and of stocky build. Maybe William didn't kill Julia, but had conspired with someone else to carry out the crime. William denied this encounter, asserting that he hadn't spoken to a single person on his journey home, aside from the tram conductors from whom he purchased tickets.

If the stocky person did indeed exist, they never came forward to rule themselves out of the investigation.

To the police, it seemed to logical that William's neighbors that Johnston's had been unwittingly incorporated into his plan. He likely timed his return to coincide with their departure, ensuring he would encounter them and use their presence to stage the discovery of his wife's body. However, the Johnston's made it clear that their decision to go out that evening was last minute. There was no way William could have known as they hadn't discussed their plans with him beforehand. The notion that William had masterfully orchestrated the elaborate crime appealed to the image of him as a cunning strategic chess player, intuitive, calculating and cautious.

This perception ignored a simple fact about William. Despite being well educated and studious, he was notoriously bad at chess. He lost far more often than he won, and he's victory on the night of the qualtra call was unexpected and rare. Fellow club members described William as a chess vandalist, an enthusiastic duffer, and insisted he ought to be hanged for being such a bad player. The police went to exhaustive lengths to implicate William Wallace, including compiling a detailed dossier on his life, repeatedly testing the timings of his men-love gardens journey for themselves,

and placing him under covert surveillance. Locals eager to pin down a motive speculated wildly. Some focused on William's profession as an insurance provider, imagining he might have killed Julia to claim a payout. Yet, Julia's life was ensured for only £20, just enough for funeral expenses. Her personal savings amounted to a mega £90, while William had 152.

But, if that had been the case, then others questioned why it was carried out with such brutality. William maintained a laboratory stocked with various chemicals, and had extensive knowledge of poisons, providing far less violent alternatives to sympathetically ant his wife's life. Others speculated darker possibilities, perhaps Julia's illness was the result of his experiments.

Maybe William harbored a hidden cruelty, taking perverse satisfaction in making her suffer before ultimately ending her life.

“But then, why make the final act so violent that the police would inevitably get involved?”

Some went even further, believing that William's fascination with science might conceal an illicit opium dan, or perhaps a secret interest in black magic. A rumour spread that William had applauded with a lover to remove Julia so that they could finally be together. Another claimed that Julia was the one having an affair, and had met her lover that night, which might explain the disheveled bed in the spare room, only for William to discover it, then to lash out.

One of the stranger theories suggested that William had grown too happy with Julia, and killed her out of boredom with their contented life.

As time wore on, the prospect of solving Julia Wallace's murder seemed increasingly remote.

“The case against William Wallace was built on speculation and conjecture, and his story held firm corroborated by the accounts of multiple witnesses.”

In the words of one investigator, the Wallace case was challenging, and it only became more convoluted as news of the murder spread. When 14-year-old Alan Cloess learned of the crime, he quickly realized he might be the missing link in determining William's guilt.

Alan had been delivering milk along Wolverton Street for nearly three years, including on the night of Tuesday, January 20.

Alan remembered arriving at the Wallace home at around 6.45pm, which was corroborated by the timing of the other deliveries he made that evening. Julia answered the door, looking on well. She mentioned having a cough before urging Alan to hurry along.

“A jug of fresh milk in the Wallace kitchen confirmed that Alan Cloess had made a delivery that evening.”

When asked, William Wallace said he couldn't recall the delivery occurring before he left for men-love gardens, but acknowledged it might have happened while he was upstairs preparing to go out. Sightings of William on the Trams to men-love gardens established that he could not have left the house any later than 6.49pm. While this meant it was theoretically possible that William was home when Alan Cloess delivered the milk at 6.45pm, it left him with fewer than five minutes to carry out the brutal murder, clean himself, stage a burglary,

dispose of the weapon, and reach the Smithdown Road Trams top two miles away. Given William's distinctive appearance with these lean, tall frame, sprinting through landfill to catch the tram would have been almost impossible for witnesses to overlook. This scenario was made even more questionable, given that William was an alien slow-moving 52-year-old man recovering from the flu. Alan Cloess's account was relayed to medical examiner Professor John McFall, who was immediately dismissive and firmly maintained his latest conclusion that Julia had been killed around 6pm.

As detectives pondered this dilemma, a younger officer suggested expanding the investigation to other potential suspects. After a brief pause, a senior detective remarked, "No, the milk boy must be mistaken." Alan Cloess was brought in for another police interview, who conducted it, what was said, and for how long remains unclear. Whatever happened, Alan emerged with a different story.

He now claimed that he didn't see your speak to Julia Wallace on January 20, but only saw her arm collect the milk jugs he left on her doorstep. As expected, this dramatic revelation led to more wild speculation.

Maybe it was William in disguise, wearing his wife's clothes.

But that wasn't all.

“Alan Cloess also admitted that his original time of 645pm was mistaken.”

He asserted that he had actually delivered the milk to the Wallace home at 631pm. While this would have required him to move astonishingly fast while carrying a heavy crate of milk cans and bottles, it significantly strengthened the case against William Wallace. This adjustment expanded the available window for William to commit the murder, clean up, stage the scene, and depart for Menlov Gardens from 4 to roughly 18 minutes.

In the eyes of the police, that was more than sufficient, and a warrant was promptly issued for his arrest. Case file will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors. The next episode is to be able to get to the end of the episode. The next episode is to be able to get to the end of the episode.

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He repeated a similar statement when he first appeared in court, telling the judge he had nothing to say,

except that he was absolutely innocent. Loyar Hector Monroe, a fellow member of Liverpool's central chess club, agreed to represent William in court. The prosecution's case relied on the abundance of circumstantial evidence. The crux of their case was the timing of the murder. Specifically, when Julia Wallace was last seen alive.

“It was therefore crucial for Hector to reaffirm Alan Closes original sighting at 645pm.”

Alan had originally been encouraged to go to the police after admitting to several friends that he had seen Julia on the night of a murder. Hector spoke with those friends, four of whom independently confirmed that Alan had told them he saw Julia at 645. Another boy who had also been delivering milk that evening,

recalled having crossed paths with Alan at 640pm. At which point he said, he was heading to the Wallace home on Wolverton Street. Hector also located another two witnesses whose recollections supported Alan's original statement. Taking together, these accounts strongly suggested that Alan hadn't arrived at the Wallace House as early as 631pm as his amended statement claimed.

These witnesses provided statements to the police, but when Hector Monroe checked the 35 witnesses to be called by the prosecution for William Wallace's Commodore hearing, they were conspicuously absent.

The second major pillar of the prosecution's case was the bloodstained found in the Wallace's toilet ball,

which they argued supported the theory that William had washed himself immediately after killing Julia. In response, Hector Monroe arranged a series of experiments, 118 in total, using drops of blood at varying stages of freshness.

in terms of shape, consistency, and moisture.

“To strengthen the credibility of the findings, a professor of pathology independently replicated the tests.”

The results were clear. The bloodstained in the Wallace's toilet ball was not fresh blood. The bloodstained had originally been discovered by medical examiner Professor John McFall, during his in-situ examination of Julia's body.

In some expert opinions, this was far from the only questionable aspect of his findings.

They challenged the various times of death he supposedly drew from the presence of rigor mortise, and the bloodstaining on the rug. Specifically, his most recent claim was that she had been killed at least three hours before her body was found. Neither could support his assertions with any real certainty given the many variables involved. Most notably, environmental factors such as rim temperature can significantly accelerate or delay post-mortem changes. Florence Johnston, the Wallace's neighbor, recalled touching Julia's hand as her body lay in the parlor.

It felt warm and had only slightly cooled when she touched it again minutes later, suggesting that Julia had died recently.

Crucially, Professor McFall had failed to record Julia's body temperature using a rectal thermometer. widely regarded by medical legal experts as the most reliable indicator of the time elapsed since death.

“Without this key measurement, any estimation of her time of death couldn't be considered precise.”

McFall himself didn't seem very confident in his own findings, given he had altered the estimated time of death without justification, but in a way that implicated William. Hector Monroe questioned whether the issues he was uncovering in the case were merely a series of coincidental oversights. He founded far more likely that the police were bending the rules by disregarding established facts in their determination to secure a conviction. This was made especially clear to Hector during the Committal Hearing, where he noticed police witnesses were omitting key details that were favorable to William.

Most notably, his meticulously kept personal diaries, which portrayed his marriage to Julia in a positive light. When the defense read passages from the diary aloud in court, William's usually unshakable composure gave way. He covered his eyes with his hands and began to tremble. Before the judge delivered his decision on whether William would stand trial for Julia's murder, he was asked if there was anything he wished to say. William stood and said quietly, but firmly.

I would like to say that my wife and I lived together on the very happiest terms during the period of some 18 years of our married life. Our relations were of complete confidence in and affection for each other. The suggestion that I murdered my wife is monstrous, that I should attack and kill her is to all who know me unthinkable. And the more so, when it must be realized that I could not possibly obtain one advantage by committing such a deed, nor so the police suggest that I gained any advantage.

“On the contrary, in actual fact, I have lost the devoted and loving comrade. My home life is completely broken up, and everything that I hold dear has been ruthlessly parted and torn from me.”

I am now to face the torture of this nerve-racking ordeal. I protest once more that I am entirely innocent of this terrible crime. In his response, the judge insisted that he had followed the evidence very clearly before committing William Wallace to stand a trial for murder. Hector Monroe was prepared to defend William with the team convinced of his innocence, but a more immediate problem loomed. William couldn't afford the cost. Relief came from an unexpected source, the union of his employer of 16 years, the potential assurance company.

In an unprecedented move, they agreed to fully fund William's defense on one condition, that a secret mock trial be held. Under this arrangement, Hector would present the case as he intended to a trial, after which union officials would cast anonymous votes.

The votes were sorted into two piles, guilty and knock guilty. In the end, only one pile existed.

“Every single vote declared William, not guilty.”

William's actual trial commenced in April 1931, two months after Julia's murder. The real jury deliberated for an hour before returning with their verdict. guilty. The silence in the court following the verdict was eventually broken by someone at the back whistling in surprise. Several gasps arose from elsewhere in the crowd, and assumed the entire courtroom erupted into a mix of cheers and shocked exclamations. The only two women on the jury began to cry.

William Wallace was asked if he had anything to say. He paused for a moment before replying, "I am not guilty. I cannot say anything else."

“The judge immediately pronounced. For the crime of murder by the law of this country, there is only one sentence.”

That sentence I now pass upon you. It is that you be taken from hence to a place of lawful execution, and you be there hanged by the neck until you be dead, and that your body be afterwards buried within the precincts of the prison, in which you shall last have been confined. May the Lord have mercy on your soul. William was led from the court, still projecting his calm and collected demeanor.

So those who believed in his innocence, there was this extraordinary composure that seemingly worked against him. His stoicism was interpreted in numerous negative ways, from overconfidence to callousness.

It wasn't until he was taken into prison and made to strip naked to receive his great uniform that he finally began to cry.

He was led to the cell where he would remain until his untimely death, scheduled just two weeks later. William spent his final isolated days mostly confined to his small cell. He was allowed a minor comforts, including a few cigarettes, a violin he couldn't bring himself to play and a chessboard. For the first time, he found himself winning games consistently. He believed this was only because the guards who agreed to be his opponents took pity on him.

For an hour each day, he was permitted to stand alone in a small enclosed garden filled with irises and loopens. William wrote about the flowers during his imprisonment. They became an obsession with me, he noted. In fact, my soul remaining interest in life. The plants were in bud. Almost unceasingly,

“I pretended to myself the question, would they be in flower before I died?”

It wasn't until the guilty verdict was handed down that public perception of William Wallace began to shift. As details of the trial spread, people started to realise just how much of the prosecution's case was circumstantial. Even those who remained convinced of William's guilt began to question how he could have been found guilty. In a letter to a Liverpool newspaper, a local stated, "In my reading of the Wallace trial, I could not for the life of me discerning the evidence any what I might term major points against the accused man."

I feel that in such a serious matter, especially when there is no apparent motive, circumstantial evidence should be much more convincing. It was this belief that the verdict was unreasonable and unsupported by the evidence that formed the basis of William Wallace's appeal. Yet his attorney, Hector Monroe, remained quietly pessimistic.

For the appeal to succeed, the judges would have to overturn the jury's decision, a feat that had never occurred since the Court of Criminal Appeal was established in 1907.

There was no possibility of a reduced sentence, such as a conviction for manslaughter, or a substitution to life imprisonment. Julia Wallace's murder had been far too cold-blooded and brutal. The outcome was stark. Either William would be released as a free man, or he would be condemned to die.

Unlike the trial, which had descended into something of a mockery with the jurors falling asleep,

“people shouting "explitives," laughed her at the word "menstrual," a judge who did nothing to curb the misbehavior,”

and delegations that jury members threatened others to vote guilty. The appeal judges approached their roles with the utmost seriousness and sincerity. They had thoroughly prepared and were well versed in the facts of the case. The hearing took place over two days after which the judges retired to deliberate. When they returned, William appeared tired, silent, and swayed slightly as he listened.

He endured a 14-minute judgment speech delivered slowly, with deliberate dramatic pauses that seemed to design to prolong it.

Witnesses later described it as "completely sadistic."

“We are not concerned here with suspicion, however grave, or with theories, however ingenious, the judge finally announced.”

The conclusion to which we have arrived is that the case against the appellant, which we have carefully and anxiously considered and discussed, was not proved with that certainty which is necessary in order to justify a verdict of guilty. The result is that the appeal will be allowed. With that, William Wallace walked from court a free man. It had cost £1,500 to save his life, over £130,000 in today's money.

He wouldn't receive any form of monetary compensation as the home secretary ruled that his case did not fall under the category of a miscarriage of justice, despite it being studied in law schools as a classic example to this day.

While William was ultimately relieved by the outcome, the odd deal had taken a severe toll on his body and health.

He recalled the days leading up to his appeal as both the longest and shortest of his life, saying,

“"I have no wish to remember them, but the agony of those days is impossible to forget. They were a nightmare."”

Reflecting on the moment he awaited the appeal judge's verdict, he added, "Nothing that ever happened to me in the hours of my blackest humiliation was ever half as hateful and horrible as the 14 minutes when I waited to hear the judge's decision." The result was not without controversy. Those convinced of William's guilt argued that the appeal didn't prove he wasn't a murderer, it only showed that the evidence was insufficient to sustain the conviction. To them, the outcome reinforced the notion that William was cunning and a diabolical.

Some felt that if he had gotten away with murder once, what was to stop him from doing it again. Rumours continued to follow him, painting him as an adulter, a sadist, even a mad scientist. Yet, even after being advised against it, William chose to continue living in Liverpool post-release, unwilling to let the opinions of others dictate his life. He even remained at his woven and straight home and returned to his old job. But by then, the townsfolk had decided to shun him.

People retreated into their homes, clutched their children tightly, or lowered their heads as he walked past. His chess club abandoned him, neighbors avoided him, and he received scathing letters. Children played cruel pranks on his own, and adults were equally mean-spirited, calling him "Killy Willy", and visiting the Wallace House in the middle of the night to taunt him with menacing chance. Julia, Julia, what's happened to Julia? She's all chopped up, chopped up, chopped up.

More but onlookers pressed their faces to the pile of windows, attempted to break in through the kitchen door to test their own theories, and even damaged the property to take pieces as macarbs souvenirs. William lasted a little over a month before moving away permanently. Seeking some measure of justice from his ordeal, he settled out of court with several princes and publishers, who he claimed had exposed him to public scandal, hatred, and contempt, through their greatly prejudiced reporting.

All parties agreed to a settlement of 200 pounds. William's life thereafter was, in his own words, one marked by apprehension, nervousness, depression, loneliness, grief, and anguish.

Julia, Julia, my dear, why were you taken from me? Why? Why should this have been so?

“It is a question to which I can get no answer.”

The same question plagued investigators when the inquiry into Julia Wallace's murder was reopened,

but the case went nowhere, ultimately being described as infinitely unbeatable, and the perfect murder.

While many still believed that William got away with it, others, especially those who knew him best, maintained that he was completely innocent. Whatever side of the argument one takes, the central question endured. If not William, then who? In the second statement, William gave to police following his wife's murder,

“he was asked to list the names of men who his wife would allow into their house without question.”

The first name he provided was Richard Perry, better known as Gordon, and the second was Joseph Maston.

William described both the young men as friends of himself and Julia. Both had previously worked for the Prudential Assurance Company, where William had acted as their supervisor. He had allegedly caught each of them, quote, "cooking the books," which was basically stealing, but there was no record of him reporting the issue. The men were nevertheless fires, or left of their own accord.

Perry and Maston knew each other well. While working under William, they had entered the Wallace home, and William had shown them the location of the cash box where he stored the insurance payments. The very same spotted occupied on the night Julia was murdered. They were aware that Prudential's pay-in day was Wednesday, meaning William's cash box typically contained the most money on a Tuesday night.

“It is important to note that the cash box would have held substantially more on the night of Tuesday, January 20, 1931,”

had William not skipped collections that week due to illness. Gordon Perry himself admitted to police that he knew William was a regular record or city cafe, which Perry also attended every Thursday evening for a drama club. During their investigation into various cultures living in Liverpool, the police encountered an R.J. Quiltra, who had been a client of Joseph Maston's.

Maston's alibi after the night of the murder was that he was home in bed with the flu. Gordon Perry claimed he spent the night with others, who could only loosely place him at their home between 730 and 830pm. That night he also took his car to a garage for cleaning, where a witness reportedly saw a bloodstained glove inside the vehicle. Regarding the night of the Quiltra phone call, Perry asserted that he had spent the day and evening with his girlfriend, Lily. However, both Lily and her mother stated that he didn't arrive at her house until 735pm,

partway through a piano lesson Lily was giving. He then left on his own before returning much later. The evidence against the Gordon Perry into Joseph Maston was largely suppressed by the police during the original investigation. The spotlight on both men emerged at decades after the crime, as armchair sleuths and authors took interest in the puzzling case. One witness came forward claiming to have confronted Gordon Perry on his doorstep in 1966, 35 years after Julia's murder. Perry allegedly displayed an astonishingly detailed knowledge of the crime and was aware of the death of several obscure witnesses connected to it.

He also boasted that he would never speak about it, even if offered a large sum of money.

Both Perry and Maston died without ever admitting any involvement in the crime. The Wallace case, though seemingly straightforward, is often compared to a real-life Agatha Christie novel, a who-done-it-murder mystery featuring intricate puzzles, a closed circle of suspects, and detectives who solve crime using psychology rather than forensics. The police's theory of how the crime occurred, portraying a suited gentleman turned sadistic killer,

wielding a blunt instrument and wearing a waterproof coat to avoid getting soaked in blood,

called Classic Horror Novel, American Psycho, which some believe might have been inspired by the Wallace murder.

To this day, the case is still scrutinised in search of answers, with numerous new theories put forward,

“such as Julia harboring a secret double-life, or the possibility that the Qualtra call was a red herring.”

Perhaps it was simply a prank call, and William did, in fact, murder Julia.

William then leveraged the existence of the call to his advantage, complicating what might otherwise have been a relatively straightforward case, of domestic homicide.

“On Saturday, February 25, 1933, just over two years after Julia Wallace was murdered,”

William Wallace died from the kidney disease that had troubled him for most of his life.

His last words, spoken to his nephew, before slipping into the coma from which he never awoke, were,

"Do good with your life." William was buried in the same plot as Julia, with their shared headstone describing her as his beloved wife. It is said that, in Annefield's cemetery, Qualtra's two victims share a common grave. In the words of English crime novelist and playwright, Dorothy Sayers,

“"The Wallace murder had no key move, and ended, in fact, in stalemate."”

The Wallace murder was a very serious crime.