He lived in the fantasy world where he worked.

Cinema projectionist Michael Tatum was a social inadequate who, to cover his faltering ego, spun lie after lie. None more so when he invented a killer when accused of murdering a Boer War veteran at his home in Southampton where his wife, Mary, had worked for two months as a housekeeper.

Though his mental condition bordered on schizophrenia, Tatum, 24, knew the difference between right and wrong. "He is a sane man," was the crucial assessment of a leading psychiatrist - and his professional opinion was to seal his ultimate fate.

Throughout his four-day trial, dressed in a black zip-up windcheater, he showed a dispassionate interest in the proceedings, displaying no sign of the seriousness of his situation as he gave evidence.

Tatum had been arrested within 48 hours of the brutal murder on January 18, 1959, of Captain Michael Barrett, 86, who had suffered extensive head injuries inflicted with a knobkerrie, a gift from celebrated writer Rider Haggard, who he had met as a young man when serving in the army in South Africa.

The weapon, reputed to be the original club of the great Zulu Umslopogaas on which Haggard had based his Allan Quartermain's great friend in the adventure novel, hung on the wall of his home in Belmont Road, Portswood, among several South African souvenirs.

The killer snatched it, crept upstairs and battered the pensioner for the meagre sum of £7.

Barrett had enjoyed a remarkable life. He had moved to South Africa as a missionary before returning to England to live in Kent where he bred horses, rode as a an amateur jockey and was a celebrated four-in-hand whip. In the First World War, he was appointed a railhead commander in Salonika and joined the Royal Army Pay Corps. The hostilities over, he moved to Galway to run a hotel but when the "troubles" began as Ireland sought independence, he was suspected of being a spy by Sinn Fein who gave him 72 hours to leave but he was shot and spent three weeks in hospital. Released, he met up with his estranged wife and family by chance and his fervent interest in horses took them to the racing village of Lambourn before they ultimately moved to Southampton 10 years before his violent death.

His other passion was bowls but was regarded as an almost aloof figure at the Banister Park Club where he became a member in 1946. "He used to play friendly matches with other members but was never a team player," sniped one acquaintance. "We always knew him as a man who arrived with a well-trained dog which used to lie on the path, watching him and waiting until he had finished his game."

Barrett, a keep fit enthusiast, had been found unconscious lying in a pool of blood by lodger John Finn who had just returned from work as a painter's helper. His wife, who slept at the far end of the house, was oblivious of the attack, but Finn heard him breathing heavily as he passed the door. "I saw the captain's door was open and the light was on. Inside, he was lying on the bed in his pyjamas, his head covered in blood."

Barrett was rushed to the Royal South Hants Hospital for emergency surgery but died within a few hours.

Detectives learnt he was a methodical man who always locked his doors at night, and the rifling of bureau drawers in a downstairs room was not the work of a random intruder. They immediately focused their investigation on Tatum who had lived at the house with his wife and 11-months-old daughter until a week before the killing and then moved to lodgings in Cambridge Road.

He was arrested and charged within hours, appearing on March 19 at Hampshire Assizes where the 2ft long murder weapon, the shaft of which was fractured, part of a human skull and a battered table lamp lay in front on prosecutor Norman Skellhorn QC who told the jury of nine men and three women there had been no forced entry into the house and Tatum, who had a key, knew Finn was working that night.

When questioned, he denied knowing anything about the killing, saying he had been in a pub where a man called Derek who gave him the money, which was recovered from Tatum's wallet, in £1 notes. Asked why the stranger had given him the cash, he replied: "He was queer and I led him up the garden path."

But then the projectionist's account began to vary, eventually claiming they had gone to the house together and 'Derek' had taken the stick off the wall. "We went into the Captain's room, I picked up the wallet from the table by his bed. The Captain sat up and I was scared and I went to the door. The other man hit him with a stick and we ran out. We shared the money down the road. I will tell you the truth, it was really my fault."

Tatum repeated the same story when he spent three hours in the witness box, claiming he had gone to the pub to meet his wife and the other man had struck Barrett. It was a defence that could never succeed and once convicted, Mr Justice Cassels asked Tatum if he had anything to say.

"No, sir," he replied.

The judge then donned the infamous black cap to pronounce the sentence of execution. Wheeling smartly in the dock, Tatum hurried downstairs to the cells, accompanied by three warders. He took his case to the Court of Appeal which was swiftly rejected with Lord Parker, the Lord Chief Justice, saying there were no grounds whatsoever on which the Court could interfere.

He was executed on May 14.

With supporters of the abolition of capital punishment expected to mount a huge demonstration, several police officers were deployed in streets around Winchester Prison but no one appeared. Press reporters and photographers heavily outnumbered the stragglers passing the prison gates and only one man, a member of the Catholic all-night pilgrimage, kept a vigil.

Charles Cole, from Lower Brownhill Road, said his presence was only a religious one and he was unconnected with the anti-hanging movement. Standing outside the Royal Hampshire County Hospital opposite the prison gates, he recited the rosary. "I arrived here last night to pray but was asked very kindly to move on."