Summary
LIFE bursts from the bushes and trees of Queen's Park on the south side of Glasgow - untended, overgrown, and witness to a brutal murder. Forensic experts work their way slowly through shin-high grass by the park's outdoor tennis courts. Each is wearing blue rubber gloves and carrying a stick with which to probe the ground. When one man stops shuffling they all stop. He bends, picks up a fragment of something, and hands it to another man in the chain. They take a deep breath, move back a little, check their positions. The scene, so familiar from previous murder investigations in the news, begins again.
Outside Moira Jones' tenement in Queens Drive, where her flat's front window overlooks the scene, a policewoman sits on a chair outside the building's purple storm doors, watching traffic decelerate before turning cautiously down Victoria Road. Joggers slow to a canter as they pass the spot where 40-year-old Jones is thought to have been attacked after parking her vehicle 11 nights ago. One theory suggests that Jones was bundled, in heavy rain, through a manmade gap in the park's wrought iron fence.See the full content of this document
Extract
'Our Worry Is That This Could Happen to Someone Else . . .' Paul Dalgarno On a Community Gripped by Fear
That gap is today criss-crossed with blue and white police tape and guarded by a fluorescent-jacketed policeman. His colleagues - some standing, others sitting tight-lipped on folding picnic chairs - man t...
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