Murder Mile True-Crime Podcast #23 - Canal Killers - John Sweeney Part 1 (Anne Bramley & Melissa Halstead) - TRANSCRIPT
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As part of the Murder Mile Podcast - a true-crime podcast of 300+ untold, unsolved and often forgotten murders, all set within on square mile of London's West End - I have uploaded the full unedited transcript of each episode, containing all of the information, histories and backstories which I was unable to provide in the podcast episode owing to time-constraints or last-minute changes to the script.
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Full Transcript - Episode #23 - Canal Killers John Sweeney (Anne Bramley & Melissa Halstead)
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SCRIPT: Welcome to Murder Mile; a true-crime podcast and audio guided walk featuring many of London’s untold, unsolved and long-forgotten murders, all set within one square mile of the West End. Today’s episode is about John Sweeney; a deeply deranged, dangerous and violent alcoholic, whose jealousy, rage and hatred of women left to a bloody trail of body-parts across Europe. Murder Mile contains graphic descriptions of death which may offend, as well as realistic sounds, so that no matter where you listen to this podcast, you’ll feel like you’re actually there. My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile. Episode 23: Canal Killers – John Sweeney Part 1 (Paula Fields & Melissa Halstead)
Today I’m chugging along the Regent’s Canal, passing a recently renovated part of King’s Cross called Battlebridge Basin; a former Victorian wharf in which vast blocks of arctic ice were once stored in stone cellars providing the city with a steady supply of cold drinks, fresh fruit and ice-cream, back in the days before fridges. Ooh, a historical tit-bit, how fascinating.
Now, Battlebridge Basin is perched in the typical kind of former crack-hovel and whore-haven which property developers cram full of empty art-galleries, wanky wine-bars, offices for arseholes and hardly used shag-pads, having conned a couple of hipster half-wits to stump-up a big wodge of cash for a drafty shithole in an “up and coming area”, which (we all know) is code for “rough as fuck”.
And perched opposite that is an uneven stony tow-path, lined with a cavalcade of canal-boaters, all batting away an endless barrage of baffling questions from nosey nincompoops such as “do you live on a boat?”, “yes I live on a boat”, “oh, well where do you sleep?”, “I sleep in my bed”, “oh, and how do you wash?”, “in my shower”, “and you cook?”, “in my kitchen”, “drink?”, “from a glass”, “stay warm?”, “by the fire”, all which is topped-off by a bonkers pile of dribbly mouth-plop such as “so, what do you eat”, only for the frustrated boater to want to reply ““food, I eat food”, only to realise that Dipshit McThickTwit won’t piddle off until he’s received the answer he’d hoped you’d say like “I catch fish with my teeth, I forage in bins, I blow otters for tobacco cash and I grow my own mung-beans using an old mix of ear-wax, toe-chud and belly-button fluff”. It’s sad because it’s true.
And if this area sounds slightly familiar to you, that’s because it’s just one hundred metres from the flat of drug-dealer Michael Walsh, three hundred metres from Caledonian Road and six hundred metres from the West Portal of the Islington Tunnel where devoted father, Italian tour-guide and heroin-addict Sebastiano Magnanini was found hog-tied to a shopping trolley and dumped in the Regent’s Canal. And it was here, at Battlebridge Basin, on Monday 19th February 2001, that in six separate bags, weighed down with various house-bricks, that ten dismembered body-parts of a woman were fished out of the canal; these hastily hacked-up remains having belonged to the ex-girlfriend of a jealous, drunk and vengeful sadist, whose name was John Sweeney. (INTERSTITIAL).
Born John Patrick Sweeney on Saturday 13th October 1956; Sweeney was raised in Kirkdale, a working-class district of Liverpool that borders the towns of Bootle, Walton and Everton, in an era when this prosperous city had shifted from being one of Britain’s busiest shipping ports, only to slide into economic decline and endemic poverty, and end up full of crumbling Victorian terraces, pockmarked with the bomb craters of the World War Two blitz.
Sweeney’s upbringing was unremarkable and uneventful, as although the family were poor, Jack and Catherine (his parents) instilled into their son an Irish Catholic sense of morality, pride, hard-work and family values. And although life was tough, money was tight and the future looked bleak, in 1950’s Liverpool; a city packed full of working-class Irish families, Sweeney’s childhood was normal. And as a bright boy, from a good family, with no qualifications, although he spoke with a stutter for which the young boy was mercilessly bullied, Sweeney set about learning a trade, earning a wage, and seeing the world as a jobbing carpenter.
For five years, Sweeney crossed the Continent, working on various construction sites in France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Austria and Holland; with a kitbag full of tools; a wallet full of cash and an eye for the ladies. But it was here, during this blank spot in his history, that Sweeney’s personality changed forever; something had shifted, something had snapped and something had broken, and what returned to England a few years later, was a bitter, angry and jealous man whose life was consumed by a passion for drink, a hunger for drugs and a thirst for extreme violence.
Aged twenty, having returned to Liverpool, John Sweeney still looked like the boy who’d left a few years earlier, with his curly red hair, dark blue eyes, a cheeky grin and arched (clown-like) eyebrows, but now his hair was thinning, his eyes were bloodshot, his nose was bulbous, his cheeks were rosy like those of a rampant alcoholic, and his almost angelic face which always seemed to be smiling, cheery and kind, belied a vicious temper and sadistic rage which bubbled beneath. Sweeney had come home, to see his family, to settle down and to find himself a wife. But this road to love would ultimately lead Sweeney down the path of violence, torture, dismemberment and death. (INTERSTITIAL)
Having found himself a good woman with a warm heart, a kind smile and strong family values, in 1976 John Patrick Sweeney married Anne Bramley and moved into their matrimonial home in Skelmersdale in Lancashire (14 miles from his home-town of Kirkdale), which was quickly followed by the births of their two children, Michael and Tracey. But this was not the home of a happy family.
With Sweeney’s binge-drinking and excessive use of cannabis; two very different drugs, known to cause and also exacerbate a user’s sense of aggression, hostility, depression, anxiety and paranoia; not only had Sweeney started using aliases – like Joe Johnson, Joe Carole and often being referred to as “Scouse Joe” - to cover his increasing criminal convictions for drunkenness, drug-possession, theft and assault, but as a father and a husband he was often absent, distant and violent.
In 1979, three years into their turbulent marriage, with the safety of her two toddlers to consider, as well as her own life, and having reported Sweeney to the Police on numerous occasions for assault and battery, Anne made a brave decision and divorced her violent and abusive husband.
But just two years later; having apologised and promised Anne that he was a changed man, with the drink and drugs behind him and a bright future ahead, Anne gave Sweeney one last chance, and in 1981, they remarried. But Sweeney hadn’t changed; he was still drunk, drugged and dangerous, and with Anne having left him once before, her rejection had lit a fire in Sweeney’s belly, and there was no way that she was ever going to leave him again. Their second marriage would last barely a year.
Becoming more paranoid, hostile and violent; having thrown bricks at her window, bashed in the family turtles and repeatedly threatened Anne’s life; verbally, physically and artistically - with Sweeney having handed his son a gruesome pencil sketch depicting his mother, dead and lying in a coffin, scrawled on the gravestone the words “Rest in Peace Anne” - once again, fearing for her family’s life, Anne made a midnight run to the safety of her family home in Northampton. But no matter how far she ran or how well she hid, Sweeney would always find her.
In November 1982, having moved herself and her two young children into a small cottage in Ormskirk; a small market town in West Lancashire, just 14 miles north of Liverpool, Anne thought she had found sanctuary, but her peace was shattered, as she had been followed here by Sweeney.
That evening, as a cold wintery wind whipped over the hills, the moon shadowed by thick clouds and a cold sharp frost crunching under foot, Sweeney crept towards the family home. Through a crack in the curtains, he spied a single light on inside, but hearing no voices, no sounds and no movement, he broke the lock on the backdoor, knowing no-one was home.
Inside lay the detritus of the family life he felt had been denied by Anne; with food in the cupboards, toys on the floor and photos on the mantelpiece, Sweeney slunk into the darkness of Anne’s bedroom, opened the wardrobe, crept inside and hid. And as he stood there, surrounded by the familiar sight of her clothes and the scent of her perfume, all of which reminded him of how she had rejected him, Sweeney lay in wait for his wife to return, a pick-axe in one hand, a claw-hammer in the other.
But he didn’t have to wait long, as just a few minutes later, from inside his wife’s wardrobe, Sweeney heard the jangle of her house-keys, her front-door unlock and her house-lights slowly illuminate each room as footsteps calmly walked into her bedroom. With his knuckles white with anticipation as he tightly gripped the pick-axe and claw-hammer in both fists, having readied himself for a vicious and frenzied attack on his soon-to-be ex-wife, Sweeney burst out of the wardrobe, his wild eyes fixed…
…on two policemen; both big, ready and packing handcuffs; as Sweeney dropped his weapons, his stutter went into overdrive as he unleashed a volley of excuses about who he was, why he was there and what on earth he was doing in the wardrobe with a pick-axe and a claw-hammer.
Thankfully, Anne and the kids, having spent a pleasant evening at their neighbour’s house, and heard the sounds of an intruder breaking in, assumed it was a burglar, called the Police and John Sweeney was arrested. But he wasn’t charged with attempted murder or attempted manslaughter. As with no assault committed, malicious intent being hard to prove and the incident having occurred in what was (technically) his own house, so the law was at a loss with what to do with him, but owing to his long-history of threats and violence against Anne, John Sweeney was “bound-over to keep the peace” by Ormskirk Magistrates Court, meaning that – as a condition of his bail – he had to stay away from Anne.
That same year, Sweeney started afresh and moved to London, where he remained for decades, only returning to Liverpool to see his mum. And although he and Anne crossed paths, for the sake of the kids they remained on civil terms, until her death in 2001, when she lost a long battle with cancer.
The same year that ten dismembered body-parts (consisting of two arms, two legs and a woman’s torso), wrapped in six separate bags and weighted down with house-bricks were found submerged at Battlebridge Basin in the Regent’s Canal. But the body in the canal was not Anne.
Sweeney never made an attempt on Anne’s life again. Maybe he never had the chance? Maybe he still loved her? Or maybe he knew it was wrong to deprive his kids of a loving mother? But with so much jealousy in his eyes, so much hatred in his heart and so much anger in his bones, Sweeney (once again) went looking for love, and her name was Melissa Halstead.
Born in Oakwood (Ohio), the middle child to Margaret & Jack Halstead, a middle-class couple with a dentist’s surgery in Dayton; Melissa Halstead was bright, bubbly and bold, whose free-spirited nature was matched only by her kindness, warmth and compassion. And being a beautiful woman, with sparkling eyes, excellent pose and a stunning bone structure, Melissa was quickly scooped up by New York’s famous Ford Modelling Agency, where he career as a fashion model began, touring across America, Europe and Asia.
Described by her brother Jack Junior as “egocentric” and “magnanimous”, Melissa always saw the best in people, never the worst, and although she was slow to trust a stranger “once you were her friend, you were her friend for life”. By 1986, having retrained as a fashion photographer and make-up artist, Melissa had settled down in London and a new chapter in her life was about to begin... and end.
Melissa told her family very little about her new boyfriend, who was known as “Scouse Joe”, and quite what she saw in this ruddy-cheeked, red-headed, moody, drunken, twice-divorced handyman with a lengthy criminal past and a long history of violence, was anybody’s guess? Nut whatever it was, it wasn’t worth it.
Described by Sweeney as a “love-hate” relationship, with Melissa being hopelessly besotted by her drunken abusive beau and him being a short-fused and quick-fisted alcoholic, often he’d explode in a jealous rage, as he pummelled and scarred her strikingly beautiful face with a never-ending series of black eyes, bloody lips and swollen cheeks.
The warning signs were there. And on three separate occasions, having tried to leave him, Sweeney was arrested and charged with (ABH) Actual Bodily Harm for having violently assaulted Mellissa during their brief and tempestuous liaison. In September 1987, he smashed her in the face with a stool. In December 1987, he beat her so badly (as she lay cowering on the floor) that he fractured her legs. On one occasion he was heard to scream “Who do you think you are? I’m the one who says what you can and can’t do”, and yet, for both offences, he served no prison time and was fined just £5. And in April 1988, having threatened Melissa with a knife, scaring her so badly that – in a haunting premonition of her grisly death, she remarked to her sister that “if I go missing, it’s John Sweeney who would have killed me” - this time, Sweeney was “bound over” by the courts, as had happened with his ex-wife Anne, the condition being that he had to stay away from Melissa forever.
In October 1988, in a mixed blessing by the British Government, with Melissa living having worked using an expired permit, she was deported from the United Kingdom and restarted her life again in Austria, France, Germany, Belgium and Holland, hundreds of miles away from Sweeney.
But no matter how far she travelled, how well she hid and how carefully she covered her tracks, each time she moved, Sweeney would find her; his anger fuelled by drink, his paranoia stoked by spliffs, his jealousy fired-up by her rejection, and the court’s bail conditions invalid outside of the UK.
Having stalked his supposedly deceitful girlfriend across six different European countries, on Tuesday 1st November 1988, Sweeney tracked Melissa to her new flat in the Austrian city of Vienna. Being drunk, drugged and deluded; having found it impossible to believe that the relationship’s failure was his fault and obsessed with the idea that Melissa had cheated on him, Sweeney broke in via the back-door, bound and gagged her friend and ransacked her flat, as he trashed every cupboard, drawer and box-file for any evidence of her obvious infidelity.
Experience of his violent jealous rages had taught Melissa well; she knew not to rile him, confront him or even answer back, instead sensing that he needed to cool off, she purchased him a ticket to Amsterdam where he could smoke weed, drink beer and chill. Whether this was a kind gesture to quell his agitated mental state, a cunning ploy to distract this dangerous man long enough to escape, or an honest promise to rekindle their relationship in the next city on her itinerary, is unknown? Regardless, the ruse worked, Sweeney took the ticket and left.
But a few days of getting boozed-up and stoned-out had done little to quell the fiery Scouser’s temper, and sensing that this ticket was a simply scam, to either pacify him, bribe him, or shrug him off, just as every bloody woman had done in his shitty little life; having rejected his love, his kindness and his loyalty. Oh yes, those lying cheating bitches had conspired against him, and he would make them pay.
Melissa was to blame; she had rejected, just like Anne; she had abandoned him, just like Anne; and she had destroyed him, just like Anne. Sweeney’s anger had come full-circle and now it was time to complete what he had begun, and to get his revenge.
On Friday 4th November 1988, just four days later, and almost exactly six years after his failed attack on Anne from inside her bedroom wardrobe, Sweeney approached Melissa’s flat.
Unlike that night at Anne’s cottage, Melissa was home. Unlike that night, he didn’t break-in, he knocked. Unlike that night, as Melissa saw her stalker return and a heated argument ensued. But just like that night, six years earlier at Anne’s cottage, Sweeney was ready, as grasped in his right hand, his knuckles white with anticipation, he clutched a claw-hammer.
As Melissa led Sweeney up the stairs to her first-floor flat, facing forward with her back turned, she felt a heavy thud, heard a dull crack and her vision went black, as straddling her – his teeth gritted, his eyes wild, his arm swung high - Sweeney struck the soft skull of a petite woman who was half his weight, his foot-long hammer raining blows down upon her with over half a kilo of steel.
Somehow, Melissa survived. From her hospital bed, having escaped with her life and suffered nothing more than severe bruising and a fractured skull, Melissa later stated “I only ever wanted to help him, but now I know he must have really hated me”. Later that day, John Sweeney was arrested
For the unprovoked attack on Melissa Halstead, which left the ex-model traumatised, in pain and disfigured; after four months in custody, having claimed that it wasn’t a premeditated attack, but an emotional act between two lovers in the heat of a passionate debate, Austrian authorities were unable to charge Sweeney with attempted murder or even attempted manslaughter, and (once again) Sweeney was found guilty of the lesser charge of aggravated assault, he was sentenced to a 10 year deportation order and just 12 months in prison. His short sentence and early release having been assured after an impassioned plea to the judge by the one person that he had almost killed - Melissa.
Incredulous at her sister’s forgiveness from her hospital bed of the man who had attempted to murder her, Chance O’Hara asked her sister if she had lost her frigging mind, but – being a kind, warm and caring soul, who only saw only the good, even in those who were bad through and through – Melissa had believed his cries, tears, begging and his promise to leave her alone, if she would get him out.
In March 1989, having accepted his apology and his promise that he was a changed man, with the drink and drugs behind him and a bright future ahead, and (just like Anne), Melissa gave Sweeney one last chance, and – having served just six months in prison – they rekindled their relationship.
Barely a few months later; the footless, handless and headless corpse of 33 year old Melissa Halstead would be found, hidden in a duffle bag, floating in a canal having brutally died at the hands of her evil sadistic and jealous boyfriend. But Melissa was not the body which had been found at Battlebridge Basin in the Regent’s Canal. That woman was still alive, for now, as she was yet to become a future ex-girlfriend of John Sweeney. To be continued.
OUTRO: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for listening to Murder Mile. And don’t forget, if you are the victim of domestic abuse, or you have inflicted violence against a loved one, never be afraid to speak out, as professional help is only a phone-call away.
As a treat to you all, this week’s recommended podcast of the week is called ‘Based on a True-Crime’, and if (like me) you’re both a film-buff and a true-crime nut, Chelsea & David who host this awesome podcast, not only do they dive into some truly classic films (such Amityville Horror, The Exorcist and my personal favourite 10 Rillington Place) but they also analyse the crime which inspired the film, debunking any myths, mistakes and narrative additions for dramatic licence. Check out their promo.
Don’t forget to check out the Murder Mile website at murdermiletours.com, find us on Twitter or Instagram, or join the Murder Mile True-Crime Podcast discussion group on Facebook. A quick thank you this week to the fabulous people who have left five-star reviews of Murder Mile and have been truly fabulous on social media, they include; Suzie Brace, Mandi Collins, Ian Flintham, Kazzerlicious, Ferris the Frog, Nala Llabnrut, Janine Maddon, Clairelet, Stuart who left a fabulous comment on the Murder Mile blog about the Denmark Place Fire and to Gearoid Curley, who h=not only listens to the Murder Mile podcast, but came all the way for Cork to come on the Murder Mile Walk, I thank you. And Kaz Every.
And of course a quick shout-out goes to my good friend, Barry at the Extraordinary Stories Podcast; if you fancy shaking up your true-crime playlist, and adding in a big dose of myths, murders, theories and conspiracies, all of which is well-told and truly mind-bending stuff, wrap your head around the Extraordinary Stories Podcast. Available on all podcast platforms.
Murder Mile was researched, written & performed by myself, with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name. Next week’s episode… is the concluding part of Canal Killer – John Sweeney. Thank you for listening and sleep well.
Sadly, as the Police investigation is still fresh, the original file won't be declassified for at least the next 50, 75 or 100 years, so this episode was based on news articles, local knowledge, first hand accounts and my own particular style of investigation, like dragging a loaded shopping trolley from Wharfdale Road to the Islington Tunnel to replicated Walsh & William's journey, pushing the trolley loaded with Sebastiano's body (I used bricks I had found), to see how long it would take and how difficult it was. And yes, it was bloody difficult.
* House Keys - https://freesound.org/people/sijam11/sounds/204851/
* Unlocking Door - https://freesound.org/people/Lightnessko/sounds/390328/
* Door Open / Close - https://freesound.org/people/amholma/sounds/344360/
* Light Buzz - https://freesound.org/people/ST303/sounds/201788/
* Florescent Light On - https://freesound.org/people/duckboy80/sounds/42141/
* Sliding Doors - https://freesound.org/people/ondrosik/sounds/182722/
* Walking on Snow - https://freesound.org/people/uiti/sounds/380299/
* Window Breaking - https://freesound.org/people/m1a2t3z4/sounds/112213/
* Quiet Forrest - https://freesound.org/people/erpe/sounds/127317/
* Scream - https://freesound.org/people/esmayorga/sounds/356313/
With additional sounds courtesy of the Free Sound Project, used under a Creative Commons License 4.0 (Attribution), and additional music used under a Creative Commons License 4.0 (Attribution) via Free Music Archive, with all additional tracks written & performed by various artists.
* Night II by Swelling
* A Vital Piece of Music for All by Steve Combs
* Found by NCTRNM
* Comatose by Kai Engel
* Dark Waves by Xenojam
Michael J Buchanan-Dunne is a writer, crime historian, podcaster and tour-guide who runs Murder Mile Walks, a guided tour of Soho’s most notorious murder cases, hailed as “one of the top ten curious, quirky, unusual and different things to do in London” and featuring 12 murderers, including 3 serial killers, across 15 locations, totaling 75 deaths, over just a one mile walk
Michael J Buchanan-Dunne is a crime writer, podcaster & tour guide of Murder Mile Walks, hailed as one of the best "quirky curious & unusual things to do in London".
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