True Crime Story(67)
SARAH MANNING:
Kim insisted the door had been locked, that her attacker had already been inside. She’d heard a thud from one of the empty rooms, and when myself and two responding officers accessed the premises, we saw definite signs of a disturbance. The wardrobe was open—the girls had been using the room for storage—and clothes were scattered everywhere. Then we saw the service hatch inside leading on to wiring and pipework. The vent covering the hatch was hanging off the wall. It seemed obvious to us that someone had used it to gain access to the room. That was a disturbing thought, given what we were dealing with. I was the smallest person there, so I volunteered to climb inside and see where it went.
CARYS PARRY:
I’d been trying to speak to the Nolans about Kimberly’s involvement in the reconstruction when she abruptly got up and ran out of the café. I asked Rob if we should take a break, but he insisted we continue, which we did in fits and starts. After about half an hour, Kimberly came back, clearly distraught about something, and spoke to DC Manning. Then she sat back down with us, white as a sheet. I asked if we should postpone our conversation, but she didn’t react. Rob insisted we carry on. I looked between them and said, “Listen, I’m not sure Kimberly playing Zoe is the best idea.”
KIMBERLY NOLAN:
At which point my attention snapped back to where I was and what I was doing. I’d been told that me playing Zoe was one of the BBC’s demands, that it was the only way they’d agree to the reconstruction. That was when I found out it was all bullshit. They thought it was as bad an idea as I did.
ROBERT NOLAN:
I never told Kim she had to do it. I did think she owed it to Zoe, to her twin sister, to try and find her, and I’m sure I said words to that effect, but I don’t recall saying it was one of the BBC’s conditions.
CARYS PARRY:
Mr. Nolan said something like, “If you couldn’t give two fucks about her, then don’t do it.” By this point, we’d interviewed all the key players, created a production schedule, cast the parts. We were all but ready to shoot. I’ve canceled whole productions on the day of filming when I’ve thought it could do more damage than good, though. I’d much rather our time and money went down the drain than did permanent harm to someone suffering the aftereffects of a traumatic event. So I suggested we just press pause on everything for a while.
KIMBERLY NOLAN:
Dad launched himself up and nearly turned over the table. Coffee cups and cutlery went everywhere, everyone was staring at us. He gave me this look like he might spit in my face and walked out. Then me and the producer, whose name I forget, just sat there in silence. I hadn’t even been able to tell him about what had just happened, the prospectus and the man who’d hit me.
SARAH MANNING:
I’m small, five foot four, 120 pounds, and even I found moving inside that space like a living panic attack. It was cramped, pitch-black, unbelievably hot. A lot of pipes ran through it, some of them ice cold and some of them scalding to the touch. I had a flashlight, but I was keeping it low, trying to watch where my feet were going. I was acutely aware of being on the fifteenth floor of an old tower block. For all I knew, I might step on a hole in the ground and fall right the way down. So I’d walked sideways, carefully, for a few meters when I saw light at eye level.
It was a hole in the wall looking right through into Zoe’s room. I could see her door, her desk, her bed. Even the mirror in the wardrobe that she would have dressed in front of. That unsettled me but turned out to be the least of it.
Roughly six feet farther to the right, I came to an opening, a kind of cupboard-sized space of breathing room, which felt like a relief to me for a second. Then I moved the flashlight around and saw pictures pasted to the walls. Photographs of Zoe standing on the roof of the tower, at the edge of it, looking like she might jump. They looked candid, as though they’d been taken without her knowing. Then my foot brushed against something, and I realized there was a body at my feet. I saw a flash of blond hair, dropped the flashlight and heard it break, then I started banging around trying to get away. I couldn’t see anything or tell which direction I was going in, so I just pushed through and burned my arms on the pipes until I came back to the vent again. They pulled me out headfirst because I screamed at them to get me. It was only when we were all lying in a heap on the floor that I saw the blood on my hands. I didn’t know if it was mine or someone else’s. I didn’t know what the hell I’d just seen.
From: [email protected]
Sent: 2019-02-14 13:35
To: you
on Thu, Feb 14, 2019, Joseph Knox [email protected] wrote:
Hey—of course I’m still talking to you, don’t be silly. I’ve actually tried calling a couple of times to no answer.
I’ve just reached the discovery of the crawl space behind the wall, which I find really disturbing. What disturbs me more is the harassment that you’re going through, though. If I misspoke it’s only out of concern.
To be clear. I think this story AND your presentation of it is brilliant. It’s just that it seems to be getting so much bigger in scope than you originally intended. Just don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it. I know I’ve been busy with my own projects but if you wanted, I could help? I could edit or even come on board for example? Just a thought.
Something that’s leapt out at me with the mention of all these pipes is that Rob Nolan apparently worked as a PLUMBER at the time? I’m not pointing the finger but, given some of the things we know about him now, I just wonder if he’d be better OUT of your life?