The Legend of Jack the Ripper

Ch12: Facts establishment

In the early days of the investigation, CID inspector Howard Vincent had adopted a new policy that the police were, under no circumstances, will be permitted to talk to journalists about their cases. He stated that:-Police must not on any account give any information whatever to gentlemen connected with the press, relative to matters within police knowledge, or relative to duties to be performed or orders received, or communicate in any manner, either directly or indirectly, with editors, or reporters of newspapers, on any matter connected with the public service, without express and special authority...The slightest deviation from this rule may completely frustrate the ends of justice, and defeat the endeavour of superior officers to advance the welfare of the public service. Individual merit will be invariably recognized in due course, but officers, who without authority give publicity to discoveries, tending to produce sensation and alarm, show themselves wholly unworthy of their posts."The police now were cautious about the matter, and rarely spoke about their case. A major fear and possibly a very reasonable one was that if the police were to tell journalists about the lines of enquiry they were following, then the subsequent press reportage might well tip off possible suspects that the police were on to them. Early in the investigation, the police had seen the danger posed by sensationalist press reportage when the Leather Apron scares almost set off an anti-Jewish pogrom in the East End of London. Thus the police chose to try and keep journalists at arm's length to keep their lines of enquiry from becoming public knowledge.

However and unfortunately for the police, the ripper crimes generated a huge amount of press coverage and the general public was desperate to pore over every salacious detail of the case. Starved of news by the police, journalists adopted several means of obtaining information. They would shadow individual constables or detectives in the hope they would lead them to a suspect or a witness. They would track down and interview witnesses to see if they could glean a hint as to what stage if any, the police investigation had reached. They would try to bribe officers or attempt to loosen their tongues with a drink. Some journalists even dressed up as women and set off into the streets of Whitechapel in the hope that they might be accosted by Jack the Ripper and, in so doing, gain a sensational scoop for their newspaper. And, when all else failed, they could always make up stories.

Henry Matthews, the Home Secretary, addressed the House of Commons and defended his decision not to offer a reward:-

Before 1884 it was the common practice for the Home Office to offer rewards, and sometimes large amounts, in the case of serious crimes.

In 1883 in particular several rewards, ranging from £200. to £2,000, were offered in such cases as the murder of Police-constable Boans, and the dynamite explosions in Charles-street.

These rewards, like the £10,000 reward for the Phoenix Park murders, were ineffectual and produced no evidence of any value.

In 1884 there was a policy change. A remarkable case occurred. A conspiracy was formed to effect an explosion at the German Embassy, to plant papers upon an innocent person, and to accuse him of the crime, in order to obtain the reward which was expected.

The revelation of this conspiracy led the then Secretary of State, Sir W. Harcourt to consider the whole question.

He consulted the police authorities both in England and Ireland, and the conclusions he arrived at were "that the practices of offering large sensational rewards in cases of such serious crimes are not only ineffectual, but mischievous; that the rewards produce, generally speaking, no practical result beyond satisfying a public demand for conspicuous action; that they operate prejudicially, by relaxing the exertions of the police, and that they have tended to produce false rather than reliable testimony."

He decided, therefore, in all cases to abandon the practice of offering rewards, as they had been found by experience to be a hindrance rather than an aid in the detection of crime.