In 1888, seven-year-old John Gill was murdered in Manningham. His death shocked Victorian Bradford and became one of the city’s most haunting criminal cases. More than a century later, his grave still stands in Windhill Cemetery, Shipley, but the memorial that bears his name has been allowed to deteriorate. I am asking for public support to help save it. John Gill was not a public figure. He was not wealthy, powerful, or famous. He was a child. His grave is one of the few re

If you are looking for something different this weekend, why not step back into Victorian Bradford and discover one of the city's most fascinating historic landmarks? From 10:30am tomorrow, the team at Undercliffe Cemetery will be leading a guided walk through this remarkable Grade II* listed cemetery, bringing to life some of the extraordinary people and events that helped shape Bradford's history. The tour explores the stories of individuals from every walk of life, from we

When we look back at the crimes of Victorian Bradford, it is tempting to begin with the moment of horror. The poisoned sweet. The body discovered. The accused man standing before the court. But perhaps the more interesting question is not simply who committed the crime? Perhaps the deeper question is: What created the world in which such crimes could happen? Before Bradford became a city of mills, smoke, wealth and tragedy, it was a very different place. For centuries it rema

There is a particular moment in the life of every book when it changes. For months , sometimes years, it exists as something uncertain. A collection of notes, fragments of research, half-formed conversations, old newspaper reports, forgotten names, and scenes that play repeatedly in the imagination of the writer. Then one day a parcel arrives. Inside is no longer a manuscript. It is a book. This week I received the first printed proof copy of Fragments of Truth, the latest Vi

When I first began researching the events surrounding The Bradford poisonings of 1858, the story felt intensely local. It belonged to the narrow streets, the crowded marketplaces, the mills and the people of Victorian Bradford. It was a tragedy carried through newspaper columns, whispered conversations, inquest rooms and court proceedings. A moment when an ordinary Saturday evening changed the lives of hundreds of families. More than 160 years later, those voices are travelli

There is a strange moment that happens when researching Victorian Bradford long enough. The modern city begins to disappear. Street names survive, but the streets themselves have changed. Entire courts and terraces have vanished beneath ring roads, concrete blocks and redevelopment. Markets moved. Public houses disappeared. Graveyards became overgrown. Industry faded. Yet beneath the modern city, the Victorian one still exists in fragments. Old police reports. Coroner’s depos

In the spring of 2026, beneath decades of overgrowth and silence, a forgotten grave in Undercliffe Cemetery was brought back into the light. For more than 150 years, the burial place of William Hardaker, better known to history as “Humbug Billy” had lain unmarked and largely forgotten. Yet Hardaker’s name remains permanently tied to one of the darkest tragedies in Victorian Bradford: the 1858 arsenic poisoning disaster that killed 21 people and left more than 200 violently il

An Update on John Gill’s Grave, and the Publication of The Bradford Poisonings I want to manage dignity in death, and preserve memories, but what I see is a policy to manage decay: Over recent months, many people have followed the discussions surrounding the grave of John Gill and the wider questions this has raised about remembrance, responsibility, and what becomes of memorials when no direct descendants can be identified. I felt it was important to provide a further update

John Gill Died Twice. Once in 1888 and Again in 2026, When His Memory Was Left to Fade There is a particular kind of loss that does not happen all at once. It does not arrive with ceremony or record. There is no certificate, no formal acknowledgement. It occurs slowly through weather, through time, and, occasionally, through the quiet absence of permission. My intention began simply. A fallen cracked monument. A name still legible. A life that could, with care, be preserved i

Why the John Gill Story Still Matters Today There are moments in the life of a project when it moves beyond private work and enters the public domain. The recent coverage in the Telegraph & Argus marked such a moment. For a story rooted in Victorian Bradford, this transition carries particular significance. It represents not merely exposure, but recognition, an acknowledgment that the past, when properly examined, retains relevance in the present. A Story That Refuses to Sett

From Fragmented Records to Narrative Truth: Reconstructing the John Gill Case The origins of this research, and how it developed into Stolen Innocents, are outlined in more detail here: Reconstructing a Crime: The Development of the John Gill Story There is a marked difference between discovering a story and constructing one. The case of John Gill did not arrive fully formed. It emerged in fragments, scattered across inquest reports, newspaper columns, burial records, and occ

The Story Behind Stolen Innocents and the Path to Publication There are moments in a writer’s life when a subject does not merely present itself, it insists. For me, that moment did not begin in an archive or a library, but in a conversation. I was approached by a friend who was tracing her family history in Bradford and had encountered a name that required closer examination: her great-great-grandfather, William Barrett. What began as a straightforward attempt to assist with