Body parts found in Singapore led to Isle of Wight killer

Below, the serene surface of the water, usually a canvas of vibrant blues reflecting the sky, began to reveal a macabre secret.

First, a pair of feet, pale and lifeless, emerged from crude plastic wrappings, bound together with the stark, incongruous detail of men's underpants. A chilling prelude, a grotesque overture to a symphony of horror.

Then, the sea offered up more of its grim harvest.

Two disembodied thighs, ghostly white against the backdrop of the bobbing pleasure boats, their cheerful presence a stark and unsettling contrast.John Scripps was the first Briton to be executed in Singapore (Image: Echo)

The harbour, usually a place of leisure and vibrant activity, was transforming into a stage for a gruesome drama.

The climax arrived on March 16, 1995. A bloated male torso, a stark, undeniable nod to violence, was retrieved from the depths.

The head and arms, the very essence of human identity, remained elusive, lost in the murky depths.

Two days prior, a South African woman, her voice trembling with a premonition of dread, had reported her husband, George Lowe, missing.

He had embarked on what was supposed to be a simple shopping trip to Singapore, a brief sojourn in a vibrant city. Now, she was summoned to identify the unthinkable.

The journey from Johannesburg to Singapore was a nightmare made real. One glance at the ravaged remains confirmed her darkest fears. It was George, her George.

Scripps's mother, Jean. (Image: Echo)

The case was immediately branded one of the most horrific ever investigated in Singapore.

However, the ripple effects of this horror extended far beyond the shores of Singapore.

Thousands of miles away, on the Isle of Wight, a close-knit community was about to be plunged into a nightmare of its own.

The idyllic peace of Sandown, a place of gentle sea breezes and quiet lives, was shattered by the realisation that a wolf had been living among them.

John Martin Scripps, a 33-year-old Londoner who had sought refuge on the island, was revealed to be the architect of this brutal crime. He was not merely a murderer, but a serial killer, his actions linked to the deaths of three more unsuspecting holidaymakers.

He became the first Briton to face the ultimate penalty in Singapore, a grim distinction etched in blood.

The shockwaves reverberated through Sandown. How could the man they had welcomed into their midst be capable of such unspeakable violence?

The community grappled with the cognitive dissonance, the stark contrast between the seemingly ordinary man and the monstrous acts he had committed.

The enigma of John Martin Scripps persisted.

Was he a cold, calculating psychopath, driven by an insatiable bloodlust? Or was he a tragic figure, a lost soul burdened by a death wish, a product of a troubled past? The questions lingered, unanswered, even as the hangman's noose tightened around his neck at Changi Prison.

His life was a tapestry of instability and darkness. Born in Hertford, Hertfordshire, his childhood was marred by tragedy. The suicide of his lorry driver father when he was just nine cast a long shadow over his formative years.

School was a battleground, a place where he struggled with learning disabilities, unable to master the basic skills of reading and writing.

At 14, he made his first escape, a harbinger of a life spent in flight.

The Daily Echo in 1995. (Image: Echo)

He went AWOL from the Finchley unit of the Army Cadet Force at a training camp in France, a symbolic act of defiance that foreshadowed his future transgressions.

His adult life was a revolving door of prisons, punctuated by fleeting moments of freedom, each transgression more severe than the last.

Between stints behind bars, Scripps indulged in a restless wanderlust, funding his globetrotting adventures through a web of illicit activities.

He was a master of deception, a chameleon who blended seamlessly into the shadows, his travels fueled by drug deals and burglaries. He navigated the treacherous underworld, forging connections between Colombian cocaine cartels and Chinese-Thai heroin syndicates.

After escaping from Camphill Prison on the Isle of Wight in June 1990, he plunged back into the murky world of drug trafficking.

He vanished into the labyrinthine streets of Cambodia, adopting a series of aliases, shedding identities like snakeskin.

Upon his return to Britain, he was apprehended at Heathrow Airport, carrying a cache of heroin and a substantial sum of cash. Yet, inexplicably, he was released, allowing him to slip back into the shadows, only to resurface in Sandown, living with his mother, Jean Scripps.

The courtroom with Scripps on the far right bowing his head. (Image: Echo)

Jean Scripps, who had relocated to Sandown to run a small guesthouse and later a DIY store, kept her son's troubled past hidden from her new community.

She shielded him, perhaps out of maternal love, perhaps out of denial, never revealing the dark secrets that lurked beneath the surface.

His freedom was short-lived. He was rearrested and sentenced to six years for drug offenses.

During his incarceration at Albany Prison, he took a butchery course, a seemingly innocuous skill that would later be twisted into a tool of unimaginable horror.

In October 1994, after escaping while on home leave, he returned to the Isle of Wight to see his mother.

Distressed and desperate, she gave him £200, urging him to return to prison.

Instead, he embarked on a journey to Mexico, seeking solace in the arms of his former wife, Maria Arellanos.

They had met as teenagers, their love affair a whirlwind of passion and adventure, culminating in marriage. But their union was short-lived, shattered by Scripps's repeated incarcerations.

Despite their brief reunion, Maria rejected his romantic advances, a rejection that may have ignited the fuse of his murderous rage.

Soon after, Timothy McDowall, a Cambridge graduate, vanished in Mexico, his bank account drained, the funds transferred to an account under the stolen identity of Simon Davis, a former cellmate of Scripps.

Scripps then traveled to Singapore, where he encountered George Lowe. He introduced himself as Simon Davis, his charm and affability masking a sinister intent.

He persuaded Lowe to share a hotel room, a fatal decision. In room 1511 of the River View Hotel, he struck Lowe with a hammer, dismembered his body, and disposed of the remains.

He then journeyed to Phuket, Thailand, where he preyed on Sheila Damude and her son, Darin.

Their blood-soaked hotel room told a gruesome tale, their remains discovered in the nearby undergrowth.

Scripps, incredibly, carried the murder weapon and his victims' belongings back to Singapore, where he was finally apprehended.

His trial for the murder of George Lowe was a macabre spectacle. He claimed he acted in self-defense against a homosexual attack, a desperate attempt to deflect blame.

The jury saw through his lies, finding him guilty and sentencing him to death.

On death row, he penned disturbing poems and letters, glimpses into a tormented mind.

He imagined surviving his execution, a macabre fantasy of resurrection.

His mother visited him one last time, a heartbreaking farewell. But there was no reprieve.

On a Friday morning in April 1996, he was executed. His family claimed his body, burying him in a secret location, a final act of anonymity in a life marked by notoriety.