MAN OF CLOTH WHO TURNED TO MURDER: Criminal Past Series Part FOUR

THE Lord works in mysterious ways. But the notion that God sent a lightning bolt message to a former Leith minister to kill an innocent man perhaps stretches Christian belief too far.

Yet that was the claim made by Church of Scotland minister Reverend Peter Marr, as he appeared in court in his coat of clerical grey and stiff white dog collar to answer charges that he had shot and killed a stalwart of the Leith community in cold blood.

It was August 1930 and respectable businessman James Dalgleish was on his way to open his shop for business.

The 63-year-old Salvation Army officer and high-ranking Freemason had a lot on his mind - for a start he'd been busy arranging his brother's funeral.

No doubt the fact that he was crossing a stretch of Stanley Road in Leith (pictured)close to where his own son lost his life in a tramcar accident eight years ago to that very day preyed on his thoughts.

He probably didn't even notice the strange man dressed all in black, watching him.

Rev Marr, 41, had lived in the Trinity area before moving to a new parish outside the city.

But he harboured a deep-rooted grudge against Dalgleish, holding him firmly responsible in a property dispute that involved the businessman and the minister's 83-year-old ailing father.

The reverend was convinced his father had been "grievously wronged" by the Leith businessman, and the fact that Mr Dalgleish had gone unpunished rankled in his warped mind.

All he needed was a sign from God, and that punishment could finally take place.

As chance had it, a thunderstorm erupted over the skies of Leith that Saturday morning as Mr Dalgleish strolled to work.

The roar of thunder and the flash of lightning was, Rev Marr said later, the act of providence he had been waiting for.

It was as if the heavens were opening to tell him it was time.

Poor Mr Dalgleish didn't know what hit him. Three shots rang out and as he felt the bullets pierce his back, he staggered over the road, his hat falling to the ground by his side.

The man in black held his revolver steady, firing a further four times at his already bloodied, defenceless victim.

As confusion reigned, locals ran to help the dying man.

Rev Marr simply turned on his heels and calmly walked off. When he was finally caught, he was not exactly repentant - indeed, he claimed that the fact he had killed in cold blood made him an even better man.

In letters sent to the Lord Advocate while he awaited trial, he protested: "I am entirely blameless in this matter. I can resume my duties with a still greater devotion and, as I think, with deeper fervour and spiritual understanding born of the terrible experience through which I have passed."

The High Court that November, however, thought quite differently. Branded insane and unfit to plead, Rev Marr, the murdering minister, was ordered to be detained in strict custody "until His Majesty's Pleasure be known".

It was a message of a different kind that drove a Dunbar husband to kill.

Alexander McWilliam had been playing his part for King and country, serving as a soldier in the early part of 1940, when his brief home leave that September was shattered by a discovery that tipped his mind over the edge.

There, in a handbag, he found intimate letters to his wife Betty, addressed to "My Darling" and detailing where and when to meet, signed "Alf" and smothered in lines of kisses.

They had been sent by a Sergeant Sharp. Based alongside McWilliam at barracks in Dunbar, he had clearly taken advantage of McWilliam's army service absences to "traffick" the man's wife.

The father-of-three later told the High Court that uncovering evidence of his wife's affair with the officer sent him "about off my head".

In a fit of rage, he grabbed a hatchet and swung at his wife Betty's head. Five blows rained down on her skull. The result was inevitable and bloody.

The High Court in Edinburgh heard McWilliam had been a loving husband and father who had been under the impression his was a happy marriage.

And the Lord Justice-Clerk on the bench had no doubt over who was at least partly responsible for Betty McWilliam's tragic death. "That another man should have been taking advantage of the accused's absence on military service to indulge in an illicit relationship with his wife was a dastardly thing to do," he declared.

The jury appears to have agreed, and found him guilty of a reduced charge of culpable homicide. He was sentenced to seven years.

1930

Justice was harsh for youngsters who fell foul of the law. Harry Brock, of Abbeyhill, appeared in court to answer five charges of theft.

He was just 13 and the money he stole was squandered on chocolate, cinema and trips to the public baths. To teach him a lesson, he received "nine stripes of the birch rod".

1931

Joyriders drove police and their victims to fury in 1931, as figures for car thefts soared.

During the year, 258 cars were stolen, almost all being recovered within 24 hours, suggesting they had been taken simply for fun, prompting police to consider some form of burglar alarm for cars.

1932

Motherhood was too much for Mary Marjoribanks to bear. Just 30, she'd already been married 11 years and borne nine children - five of whom had died. Now pregnant again, she clearly could take no more. She lifted a knife and pierced the gas pipes of her Arthur Street home, allowing the toxic fumes to flow into the room occupied by her youngest children, aged three and two. Thankfully they survived, but she faced a charge of attempted murder.

1936

Just four weeks separated the terrible deaths of two innocent children.

Christine McAfee assaulted her newborn baby girl so badly that she died in the Western General in November 1936. And Mary McGregor opted for a bloody end to her daughter Doreen's life - she slit the two-year-old's throat at their Moat Street home that December.

Edinburgh Evening News April 15, 2011