Close to a parcel of Essex countryside known as Gallow’s Corner, John “Goldfinger” Palmer – the Midas touch mobster – burned documents in his secluded garden, unaware his executioner was watching and waiting. The underworld Mr Big, who once ran a jewelry business from Bedminster , was ripe for the taking. The playboy lifestyle had been replaced by paranoia, ill health had flattened the fizz of his lavish existence.
Heart problems had slowed Palmer, whose tabloid press pictures featured a gallery of glamour models. He felt the discomfort of a recent gallbladder operation, he was haunted by an impending fraud trial in Spain. The 64-year-old who potted around the grounds of his South Weald, Brentwood, cottage was no longer swathed by the security blanket of rottweilers and bodyguards.
Slow and ailing, Goldfinger no longer glistened. He was a changed man, insisted partner Christina Ketley. “He had made mistakes, but he had paid for those mistakes,” she said.
“I was incredibly proud of the way he had re-adjusted to a very, very normal life.” On June 24, 2015, Palmer was ripe for the taking. Palmer, who ran his empire with a meticulous eye for detail, had dropped his guard.
And his killer struck with silence, speed and stealth in a hit so near perfect it touched the upper echelons of professionalism. So perfect, it took detectives six days to realise Palmer had not died of natural causes. They initially believed the wounds on his body were incisions made during ga.
