The Dream Solution - Articles
??/01/02 - So what is the truth about these two sisters
Words by Andy Darling
FHM

It was in a cramped flat, above a TV repair shop in South London, that Bernard O'Mahoney claims his life was turned upside down. His lover Michelle Taylor the woman he devoted a year of his life to freeing from jail, and then left his partner and young children for - was, according to O'Mahoney, now confessing to murder.

He claims she had no choice. While Michelle was out, he'd discovered a Letter, in which reference was made to her privately admitting to murdering Alison Shaughnessy, the wife of a man she'd previously had an affair with. In court and ever since, Taylor has repeatedly sworn her innocence, claiming that O'Mahoney fabricated his story and that the letter never existed.

"She came into the Living room, O'Mahoney tells FHM, "and I was holding the Letter. I was a bit sarcastic at first, I said something Like, 'You'd better get rid of this, hadn't you?' but then I just kept saying 'Explain it. Explain it.' She went from initial shock, into real anger, like a lot of people when they're caught out, as if it's someone else's fault".

O'Mahoney claims that after storming off, and much swearing and slamming of doors, she finally confessed, saying, "I only meant to scare her, I only meant to scare her. I grabbed her from behind, I stabbed her, and everything else is a blur." "As she told me what had really happened, I was feeling light-headed," he says.

"It was all just a blur, really. The whole row Lasted maybe 10 minutes. It ended with her just crying, me saying nothing and walking out, just feeling so disgusted. It was such a wicked, wicked, wicked crime. And I'd been conned."

Bernard O'Mahoney's association with Michelle Taylor had begun 15 months earlier, in July l992, when his brother Paul, who'd been charged with wounding and assaulting a former friend, was applying for bail at the Old Bailey. Bernard went along, only to discover that the hearing had been adjourned for seven days.

On a whim, he decided to go into the public gallery to watch the trial that was taking place. He already knew a bit about the case, as did most people who'd read a newspaper in the previous weeks Michelle Taylor, 21, and her 18 year old sister Lisa, were charged with murdering Alison Shaughnessy, 21, the wife of John Shaughnessy.

A year earlier, Alison had died after being stabbed 54 times, apparently by someone she knew there was no sign of forced entry at the Battersea flat where she was found. The prosecution case, though apparently lacking hard evidence, was simple: Michelle Taylor was the spurned mistress, and, accompanied by her sister, Lisa, she'd killed Alison.

John Shaughnessy worked as an assistant purchasing manager and gardener at The Churchill Clinic, a private hospital in Lambeth, South London. Michelle also worked there, as a part-time domestic assistant, and lived in staff accommodation.

She'd been carrying on with John both before and after his marriage to Alison, although from his point of view it was hardly the romance of the century. They would occasionally have sex in her room on Monday nights, when he worked late, arranging flowers at the clinic.

He'd then go home to Alison. To Michelle, it was much more meaningful. She kept a secret diary, unearthed by the prosecution, in which she wrote, seven months before the murder, "I hate Alison, the unwashed bitch. My dream solution would be for Alison to disappear as if she never existed and then maybe i could give everything i want to the man i love."

In public, though, none of this simmering fury was apparent. She'd attempted to befriend Alison, and had been to the pub with her. She'd attended the couple's wedding, and, astonishingly, had even paid for John's stag night. But when John told her that he and Alison were returning to their native Ireland to live, the prosecution claimed that Michelle had snapped, and Alison's days were numbered.

When John found Alison's body, Michelle was with him, having given him a lift home from the clinic. She handled the body, stroked the hair, and tried to lift it up. Her discovery of the body made it impossible for the police to place her at the crime scene during the attack, as any forensic evidence linking her to Alison Shaughnessy's body may have come from her discovery of the corpse.

She'd then run into a nearby pub shouting hysterically, "Call the police, my friend has been killed." Bernard O'Mahoney wasn't convinced by the prosecution. He believed Michelle's version of events: she'd been winding the affair down, it had been John who did the running, and it was him she hated, since she reckoned he actually didn't love her or Alison.

Her defence barrister said that the case against her consisted of flights of fancy". Beyond all this, though, O'Mahoney simply didn't believe that a woman had committed the murder. "I could just about imagine a woman defending herself in such a frenzied way against a potential rapist or an unfaithful lover, but 54 times? No way. Only a man could do something like that."

And if there was one subject at which Bernard O'Mahoney was an expert, it was violence. "I grew up with an extremely violent father. My dad was born a bastard in a Southern Irish workhouse. Being born out of wedlock back then was like being Satan's son, and that probably excuses him a bit.

I'm not exaggerating, the bastard was ridiculous; he'd smash plates in my mother's face, he was a complete bastard, and you get used to that sort of violence." Three years in the army, and a spell in jail for glassing a man, was followed by periods working abroad, including running the door at a club on Johannesburg's "Murder Mile" at the height of apartheid.

When he entered the world of the Taylor sisters, he was head of security at Raquel's nightclub in Basildon, Essex. This was where, two years later, the ecstasy tablet that led to the death of Leah Betts was sold. Shortly after that, three of O'Mahoney's associates were found dead in a Range Rover, killed by a shotgun.

He was eventually cleared of any involvement, and wrote about it in his book Essex Boys, later made into the movie of the same name starring Sean Bean. Trouble and Bernard O'Mahoney were neverfar apart. "I've done bad things to people, I admit that, but it's always for a good reason.

If i see something wrong, I try to do something about it. Most people don't, they just walk away, or Leave it to someone else." At the Old Bailey, as the "guilty" verdict was announced, and Michelle and Lisa were sentenced to life imprisonment, O'Mahoney decided not to walk away, believing he was seeing a huge miscarriage of justice.


I prided myself on my ability to size people up quickly, and I just didn't believe they'd done it," he says. It was more than that, though. Because of my father, I'd been in trouble with authority from a very early age. I always felt quite hard done by. I was a 13-year-old boy standing in front of adults, and I started resenting authority from day one.

When I attended the Old Bailey and I read about the Taylors, they struck me as naive, stupid people, who'd already been found guilty by the press, even though there was little hard evidence. I felt that old sense of injustice. I wanted to help them." Spurred on, O'Mahoney started writing to Michelle, and began wondering how he could help the appeal.

By now the case was a tabloid sensation, with lurid headlines like "Alison's Killer Hated Being Love Rat's Tart" appearing alongside pictures from the Shaughnessys' wedding, including a shot from a home video freeze-framed to make it look as though Michelle and John were kissing intimately during the reception.

Convinced that the sisters were innocent and had been stitched up by both the media and the police, O'Mahoney had no qualms about using dodgy methods in response, and so set about "misrepresenting facts" of his own. Key to the prosecution's case was a 23 minute "window of opportunity", in which the sisters had supposedly killed Alison and returned to the clinic.

Alison had Left work at Barclays Bank in The Strand at 5.02pm, and would have reached the flat around 35 minutes later Michelle had been seen at the clinic at almost exactly 6pm, Leaving a period of about 23 minutes for them to commit the murder, clean up, and drive back.

The police had allowed 11 minutes for the return trip but O'Mahoney reckoned it wasn't possible, at rush hour, to get from Battersea back to the clinic in Lambeth. He reasoned that when the police had timed the distance, they'd have been in a car with a flashing Light, which obviously would have been quicker than the girls' 10-year-old Ford Sierra.

To prove it, he acquired a video camera with an on-screen timer, and did the exact journey several times over a three-month period. Unfortunately, the journey was usually of precisely the duration the police had suggested. Once or twice he did it in under nine minutes.

Undeterred, O'Mahoney worked out when traffic Lights would be against him, when there would be roadworks and other delays, and he eventually managed to come up with a few taped journeys that did indeed take longer than 11 minutes. Leaning on witnesses was next.

Jeanette Tapp, known as JJ, was a friend and colleague at the clinic, and had made a statement saying that Michelle and Lisa had been watching TV with her in her room at the clinic at the time when Alison was being murdered. The police later arrested her, threatening her with a charge of conspiracy to murder, at which point she changed her story.

Now she said that she hadn't actually seen the sisters until much later that evening, and had only made her onginal claim because they'd asked her to, and because she didn't believe the girls could have committed the murder. JJ's involvement went further.

Michelle and Lisa claimed that they'd been shopping in Bromley, far from Battersea, during the afternoon, before returning to watch TV in JJ's room. There was a problem, though. Michelle's cashpoint card had been used to make a withdrawal from a machine near the clinic at the time they were supposed to be in Bromley.

The sisters explained this by claiming that JJ had known Michelle's PIN number, and had made the withdrawal. JJ had denied this in court, and there was proof that she'd actually made a withdrawal from her own bank, several miles away, with her own card, just 24 minutes later.

O'Mahoney now admits that he found this hard to explain away, but he was a man on a mission, determined to do what he could to strengthen the appeal. I had no doubt that the police had bullied JJ into telling lies," he says. "She'd only changed her story after they'd threatened to charge her with conspiracy to murder.

I wanted her to go back to telling the truth. If we could get her to make a fourth statement, then at the very Least she'd be shown to be totally unreliable" she'd be of no use to either side, prosecution or defence." JJ had left The Churchill Clinic, but someone managed to find her new phone number.

To soften her up, the late night, silent phone calls began. Then O'Mahoney called her, friendly at first, suggesting he meet up with her to discuss what she'd said in court. He was on her side, and he wanted the truth to come out, it was only fair. She could bring her boyfriend along if she wanted. JJ refused.

O'Mahoney became more aggressive, but still she stuck to her story. She refused to meet up with O'Mahoney and hung up. sobbing. How to explain away the cashpoint withdrawal? A few months after the trial and after the failure with JJ.

O'Mahoney read a newspaper feature about a solicitor in Liverpool who'd gathered 400 instances of "phantom cash withdrawals", when money had apparently been withdrawn from accounts via cash points, without the account-holders' knowledge or permission. O'Mahoney travelled up to Liverpool, and was given dozens of cuttings relating to the phenomenon, all of which he handed over to the appeal team.

But O'Mahoney's final concoction was his most audacious: he decided to point the finger of blame at someone other than the Taylors. A few days after the murder, the police had been tipped off that a homeless man had been bragging about stabbing a woman to death.

The suspect was an unstable character; he carried a knife, he sometimes slept rough in The Strand where Alison had worked, and had also squatted in Battersea where she lived. As O'Mahoney quickly worked out, he was also most definitely not guilty. No matter, he could be used to throw doubt into people's minds.

This was achieved by befriending journalists who specialised in writing about miscarriages of justice. There'd been the Birmingham Six and the Guildford Four; next up were the Taylor Two. O'Mahoney convinced several newspapermen that he was a credible suspect, and as the appeal approached, various artides appeared referring to him, and pointing out that he couldn't be tracked down, such was his vagrant lifestyle.

As it turned out, O'Mahoney's efforts weren't required as the Taylor appeal was won, and the sisters' sentences were quashed, for two different reasons. One was that the Press coverage before the trial was deemed prejudicial as O'Mahoney had felt, the tab[oids had judged the sisters guilty Long before the official verdict, and this was bound to have affected the jury.

Secondly, it was decided that the police had withheld important evidence. A neighbour of the Shaughnessys, Dr Michael Unsworth-White, had been a prosecution witness at the original trial. He said he'd seen two white girls, one with a pony-tail, running down the steps of Alison's flat at around the time of the murder.

When he first spoke to the police, he'd said that one of the girls "may have been black. He immediately corrected himself, though, and said they were definitely both white. When a full statement was taken the next day, he repeated that they were both white.

The suggestion that one of the girls may have been black wasn't presented to the court, because it was retracted so swiftly that it wasn't deemed relevant. At the appeal, though. it was seen as highly significant. The Taylors were free. By now, Bernard O'Mahoney's partner, Debra, was sick to death of his involvement with the Taylors.

Now that they were out, though, his work still wasn't over. He was going to publish a book about the case, outlining just how bent the police were, how there was no justice within the legal system. Debra gave him a stark choice: it's me or the book. "I walked out on my family because of that book," he says.

It became important to me to do it, because of my stubbornness and stupidity." If a Low-volume alarm bell had started ringing during the conversation with JJ about the cashpoint card, it became Louder on the day that he helped Michelle move to the flat above the TV repair shop.

Among her possessions was a box containing restaurant menus, Valentine's cards, birthday cards, bus tickets, till receipts and a plastic rose. They were all mementoes of her time with John Shaughnessy, the man she claimed to have finished with months before Alison's murder, the man she couldn't stand.

When they were working on the book, she was able to recall what John had been wearing when they'd been together, and rather than criticise him, she was fiercely protective. She recalled the night when they were at a Harvester, when he announced, "I'm getting engaged".

She fully expected him to then say, and you're the lucky girl!" but instead he announced it was to someone called Alison. She'd burst into tears and fled the restaurant. Worse for O'Mahoney, though, was the possessiveness she displayed towards him after they started sleeping together.

Their first night was in Wales, where they'd gone after she'd complained about feeling cooped up in London. They were both drunk. "I woke up before Michelle the next morning. As she lay beside me, snoring fitfully, fanning her beery breath towards me, I felt like a condemned man waiting for the sun to rise. I knew I'd crossed a line, and I just wished I hadn't."

O'Mahoney swore it wouldn't happen again, that he'd tell her they should just be friends. "But I didn't. I'd never seen her so happy - she was almost cooing with delight. Most worryingly, from almost her first sentence that morning, she was talking as if we were a married couple of long-standing."

Rather than nip the relationship in the bud, O'Mahoney tried to keep his distance, working late as often as he could, making excuses to avoid the fLat at night. He began to wonder if this was what John Shaughnessy had gone through. She constantly rang him when he was working, and she wouldn't let him out of her sight when he was in the flat, in case he contacted anyone.

She started ringing his former partner, Debra, pretending to be someone called Sharon and made lewd comments about what he was up to. At least there was no direct physical threat: O'Mahoney later learned that Michelle greeted the wife of another man she fancied with the words, "I'll kill you, you fucking cunt."

He also discovered that she and Lisa had been asked to Leave a martialarts club in South London. after "a number of incidents on and off the mats". "I felt exasperated by the workings of a mind that could create such a romantic fantasy out of the dull reality of our relationship. The atmosphere in the flat was very uncomfortable, basically.

If the phone rang and you wanted a private conversation, she'd be listening. I was made to feel guilty going to work." It was three months after the Taylors were freed that O'Mahoney claims to have found the Letter; a letter which made him believe that he'd been taken for a mug.

Since he'd attempted to pervert the course of justice on their behalf, and since they couldn't be tried for murder a second time, he saw no point in telling anyone, apart from Debra. As a symbolic gesture, he ripped up the manuscript of the partly-finished book. And that would have been that, had it not been for the Taylors filing a complaint against the police a year later.

They alleged that the police had intimidated witnesses at the original trial, and had "established improper relationships with journalists". The Police Complaints Commission were obliged to interview all witnesses, several of whom said that O'Mahoney had done some leaning on them.

Although the Taylors never applied for compensation, which they would have been entitled to, O'Mahoney believed that Michelle was making the complaint for one reason only: to make money. Having a complaint upheld, would be, he thought, the first step towards getting compensation for their miscarriage of justice".

O'Mahoney saw red. The man who hated the police decided to tell them everything he'd done in the run-up to the appeal. While the case was being investigated, O'Mahoney and Debra, who were now together again, began receiving silent phone calls. He traced them to the Taylors and associates.

"Did you enjoy stabbing her 54 times, you bitch?" he asked the anonymous caller one night. With Debra's agreement, a story about the phone calls was published in the News Of The World. The headline was "Twisted Sisters Made My Life Hell: Cheated Wife Tells Of Taunt After Murder Case Girt Stole Her Husband".

Following the News Of The Wortd story the Taylors sued him and the next two years were spent arguing whether or not the letter O'Mahoney claims to have seen existed. This has never been resolved. But now, eight years after O'Mahoney claims to have discovered the letter, he's published his side of the tale in his book, The Dream Solution.

He's no Longer a doorman; the events followiny the Leah Betts case caused him to quit, and he now runs a haulage company in Peterborough. To this day, both Michelle and Lisa deny any involvement in the murder of Alison Shaughnessy.

Whether the Taylor sisters were innocent or guilty, Shaughnessy's killer is still free and O'Mahoney's book will once again draw fresh attention to this high-profile unsolved murder.

O'Mahoney hopes that the true killers will eventually be brought to justice - whoever they are -if only for the sake of Alison Shaughnessy's family."Every time those girls appear on TV, it tears Alison's mother's heart out," he says. "She wants the truth. That's what this is all about."

FHM

The Dream Solution by Bernard O'Mahoney with Mick McGovern is published by Mainstreom Publishing (£9.99).
Contact : bernard.omahoney@bernardomahoney.com
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