His friends called him “Lucky,” but one has to question whether Richard John Bingham, the 7th Earl of Lucan, commonly known as Lord Lucan, was even close to being lucky. His gambling debts put a strain on his family and his marriage. A lengthy custody battle left him at odds with the woman he once loved. And to top it all off, he is forever remembered for disappearing without a trace, suspected of attacking his wife, and murdering the nanny.
Richard “John” Bingham was born on December 18, 1934 in Marylebone, London, the second child and elder son of George Bingham, 6th Earl of Lucan. It wasn’t until college that he developed a taste for gambling. He worked in bookmaking, hiding his earnings in a “secret” bank account, and often snuck away from school to bet on the horse races.
In 1953, John left school to undertake his National Service. There, he became a second lieutenant in his father’s regiment, the Coldstream Guards, and was stationed mainly in Krefeld, West Germany. It was in Germany where he took up poker, adding to his gambling prowess.
He left the army in 1954 and took a job at William Brandt’s Sons and Co., a London-based merchant bank, where he earned an annual salary of £500. Six years later, in 1960, he met Stephen Raphael, a wealthy stockbroker and skilled backgammon player. They vacationed together in the Bahamas, and John became somewhat of a regular gambler, and became a member of John Aspinall’s Clermont gaming club, located in Berkeley Square.
His luck with gambling came and went. He often won at games like backgammon and bridge, but his losses were great. On one occasion, he lost £8,000, two-thirds of the money he received annually from various family trusts. On another occasion, he lost £10,000. For that one, he had to rely on an uncle, a stockbroker, to help pay that debt, which he had to repay his uncle for.
In 1960, John quit his job after a co-worker received a promotion before him. “Why should I work in a bank, when I can earn a year’s money in one single night at the tables?”. Shortly before this he had won £26,000 playing chemin de fer.
In 1963, he met Veronica Duncan. Veronica had a talent for art and attended an art college in Bournemouth. She shared a flat in London with her sister, Christina, and worked as a model, and later as a secretary. Her sister married William Shand Kydd who introduced her to London high society. It was at a golf-club function in the country that she first met John.
News of their engagement appeared in The Times and The Daily Telegraph newspapers on October 14, 1963, and they married on November 20 at Holy Trinity Church, Brompton. Thanks to a marriage settlement given to him by his father, John was able to clear up some of his debts and buy a home for himself and Veronica to share – 46 Lower Belgrave Street in Belgravia.
On January 21, 1964, John’s father died of a stroke, leaving his son a £250,000 inheritance as well as his father’s titles: Earl of Lucan; Baron Lucan of Castlebar; Baron Lucan of Melcombe Lucan and Baronet Bingham of Castlebar. As such, Veronica became the Countess of Lucan.
On October 24, 1964, the couple welcomed their first child, Frances. John hired a nanny, Lillian Jenkins, to keep an eye on her, and he spent his time trying to teach Veronica how to hunt, shoot, and gamble.
His routine became rather predictable. Breakfast at 9am. He’d read the newspaper, play the piano. He’d go over any letters, and sometimes jogged or took the dog, a Doberman Pinscher, for a walk.
Lunch was at the Clermont Club, followed by afternoon games of backgammon. He would return home at some point to change into his evening clothes, then return to the Clermont, where he spent the remainder of the evening gambling. On these nights, Veronica would join him at the club, sometimes watching him play, but generally showed little interest.
John enjoyed a lavish lifestyle and in September 1966, was asked to screen test for a role in the film, Woman Times Seven. Later, he turned down an offer to screen test for the role of James Bond. Instead, he listed his profession as a professional gambler. He was quite skilled and was once rated among the world’s top ten backgammon competitors. He won the St James’s Club tournament and was named Champion of the West Coast of America. His friends began to call him “Lucky” Lucan, despite the fact that his losses often outweighed his winnings.
John and Veronica argued over money, though it is said that she was generally in the dark when it came to just how much he was losing.
Veronica gave birth to two more children, George in 1967, and Camilla in 1970. As most women do, she suffered post-partum depression, and in 1971, John took her for treatment a psychiatric clinic in Hampstead, where she refused to be admitted. The alternative – she would welcome home visits from a psychiatrist and take anti-depressants.
In July 1972, the family took a vacation in Monte Carlo, but Veronica quickly returned home to England, leaving John with their two eldest children. Just two weeks after that Christmas, John moved out, into a small property in Eaton Row. Veronica’s mental health, the children, finances, the gambling losses, they all weighed on him heavily.
Months later, Veronica wanted to reconcile their marriage, but John was done. He just wanted custody of his children. He would spy on them, parking his car just down the street from their home. He hired private investigators to keep an eye on her. He even went to the doctors, trying to get them to say she was “mad,” but all they would give him was that she was suffering from depression and anxiety.
John spread the word to his friends that she was unstable. She couldn’t even get anyone to work for her after she fired their long-term nanny, Lillian in December 1972, right around the time John moved out.
Veronica hired a slew of nannies, but had no luck keeping any long term. One of these nannies, Stefanja Sawicka, claimed that she had been told that John had hit Veronica with a cane, and on one occasion, had pushed her down the stairs. Stevanja believed Veronica was afraid for her own safety, and even claimed she wouldn’t be surprised “if he kills me one day.” She remained a nanny for the children until late March 1973, when she was confronted by John and two private detectives. They informed her that the children had been made wards of the court, and she must release them into his custody.
Veronica applied to the court to have the children returned, but the judge believed the case was so complex, he set a hearing date for three months later, in June.
Knowing she had to prove herself fit to care for her children, Veronica took the time to check into the Priory Clinic in Roehampton, where she stayed for four days. Doctors reported that there was no indication that she was mentally ill, though she still required some psychiatric support. In court, that left John defending his own treatment toward her. After several weeks in court, and £20,000 later, he finally conceded the case, and custody of the children was awarded to Veronica. John was allowed access to them every other weekend.
John wasn’t about to give up though. He watched her every move, even recorded some of their phone conversations – which he would sometimes play to any of his friends who was prepared to listen. He told them, as well as his bank manager, that Veronica was “spending money like water.”
John continued to pay Veronica £40 a week and it is believed that he may have even cancelled their regular food order with Harrods. He delayed payment to the milkman, and the childcare agency – the company who provided Veronica with a live-in nanny, something that was required by the court. She had no choice but to take on a part time job in a local hospital.
He befriended Elizabeth Murphy, a temporary nanny. He would buy her drinks and try to get her to share information about his wife. He asked his private investigators to investigate Elizabeth, hoping to prove that she was failing to properly care for the children. They found the evidence he was looking for, but when he was given their bill, he had to discontinue their services.
When Elizabeth was hospitalized with cancer, another nanny took over, Christabel Martin, who reported receiving strange phone calls, some with heavy breathing, and others from a man asking for non-existent people.
In late 1974, Sandra Rivett took over as nanny for the Lucan children. By this time John was in financial trouble. He started drinking heavily, and chain-smoking. During some of his drunken conversations with friends, he discussed murdering his wife. Greville Howard later gave a statement to police describing how he had claimed killing his wife could save him from bankruptcy. He even described how her body could be disposed of in the Solent, and that he “would never be caught.”
John borrowed £4,000 from his mother and asked Marcia Tucker, a multi-millionaire he had stayed with as a child, for a loan of £100,000. She denied him the loan, so he went to her son, explaining how he wished to “buy” his children from Veronica. He still did not receive any money, and turned to friends and acquaintances for loans, to fund his gambling addiction. The financier James Goldsmith guaranteed a £5,000 overdraft for him, which for years remained unpaid.
John resorted to applying for a loan from Edgware Trust. He supplied details of his income, which was about £12,000 a year from various family trusts. Required to provide a surety, he was given only £3,000 of the £5,000 he asked for. Much to their managers’ consternation, his four bank accounts were overdrawn; Coutts, £2,841; Lloyds, £4,379; National Westminster, £1,290; Midland, £5,667.
Despite playing for much lower stakes than had previously been the case, his gambling remained completely out of control. Ranson (1994) estimates that between September and October 1974 alone, John ran up debts of around £50,000. Somehow, his demeanor greatly improved. John Wilbraham, his best man, remarked that Lucan’s apparent obsession over regaining custody of his children had diminished. Over dinner with his mother he cast aside talk of his family problems and turned instead to politics. On November 6, he met his uncle John Bevan, apparently in good spirits, and later that day, he met 21-year-old Charlotte Andrina Colquhoun, who said that “he seemed very happy, just his usual self, and there was nothing to suggest that he was worried or depressed”.
At that time, casinos could only be open between 2pm and 4am, so John often gambled into the early hours of the morning. He took pills to help with his insomnia and, as such, usually woke around lunchtime. He had a new routine, a routine he would break on November 7.
Early that morning, John called his solicitor and at 10:30am took a call from Colquhoun. They arranged to eat at the Clermont at about 3pm, but he never showed up. She drove past the Clermont and Ladbroke clubs, and past Elizabeth Street, but could not find his car anywhere. John also missed his 1pm lunch appointment with artist Dominic Elwes and banker Daniel Meinertzhagen, again at the Clermont.
At 4pm John called at a pharmacy on Lower Belgrave Street, close to Veronica’s home, and asked the pharmacist there to identify a small capsule. It turned out to be Limbitrol 5, a drug for the treatment of anxiety and depression. Oddly, he had made several similar visits since he separated from his wife; yet he never told the pharmacist where he got the drugs. At 4:45pm he called a friend, literary agent Michael Hicks-Beach, and between 6:30pm and 7pm met with him at his flat on Elizabeth Street. John had wanted his help with an article on gambling he had been asked to write for an Oxford University magazine.
John drove a Mercedes-Benz, but that night, at about 8pm, he drove Hicks-Beach home in “an old, dark, and scruffy Ford.” The Ford Corsair he had borrowed from Michael Stoop several weeks earlier. Greville Howard had called John at 5:15pm and asked if he’d like to go to the theater. He declined, but suggested they meet at the Clermont at 11pm. Then John never arrived and didn’t answer his phone when they called. Where was he?
Sandra Eleanor Rivett, the nanny, was born on September 16, 1945. Her life before working for the Lucan’s wasn’t ideal. She had spent some time as a voluntary patient at a mental hospital near Redhill Surrey where she was treated for depression. On March 13, 1964, she gave birth to a baby boy but ultimately couldn’t care for the baby and her parents adopted him.
Sandra worked at a home for the elderly, and after she married in 1967, she worked at an Orphanage in Purley. Her husband took on a job on an Esso tanker, where he was gone for a few months. Upon his return, suspicious of his wife’s behavior while he was away, he left her and moved in with his parents. Shortly thereafter, Sandra went to work for the Lucan’s.
While working for the Lucan’s, Sandra still had a personal life, and she normally went out with her boyfriend, John Hankins, on Thursday nights. This particular week, she took Wednesday off instead, and was working on the night of November 7.
Sandra spoke with her boyfriend at around 8pm that night, and then put the children to bed. At about 8:55pm, she asked Veronica if she would like a cup of tea. As was her habit, Veronica always had a cup of tea in the evening.
The kitchen was in the basement, and once she entered the room, she was met a piece of bandaged lead pipe. Sandra was bludgeoned to death, her body then placed into a canvas mailbag.
Upstairs, Veronica didn’t hear a thing, but wondering what was taking Sandra so long, she went to investigate. She called for her from the top of the basement stairs, and then she was also attacked.
Veronica screamed for her life, and her attacker only had one thing to say – “shut up.” But that was the attacker’s first mistake. She recognized his voice. John Lucan, Lord Lucan, didn’t stop. He continued to fight with his wife, sticking his fingers in her mouth to muffle her screams. But she was a fighter, and she bit him. Angered, he threw her to the ground, face down into the carpet, but she was able to reach out, grab and squeeze his testicles. He released his grip on her throat and seemingly gave up.
Veronica asked him where Sandra was. He was evasive, but eventually confessed to having killed her. In an interesting move, she offered to help him escape in exchange for him remaining at the house for a few days while her injuries healed.
John went upstairs and put his daughter back to bed. He went into one of the bedrooms and when Veronica entered to lie down, he told her to put towels down first, so she wouldn’t stain the bedding. He asked if she had any barbiturates and went to the bathroom to get a wet cloth. This was her chance. Veronica ran, out the stairs and to a nearby public house, the Plumbers Arms. The bar owner described her as entering the bar covered “head to toe in blood” before she fell into a “state of shock.” She claimed that Veronica shouted, “Help me, help me, I’ve just escaped from being murdered” and “My children, my children, he’s murdered my nanny.”
After Veronica escaped, it is believed that John went to the Chester Square Home of Madelaine Florman, who happened to be the mother of one of his daughter, Frances’s, friends. He knocked on the door sometime between 10pm and 10:30pm, but being home alone, Florman ignored the knocks. A short while later, she received a phone call she described as incoherent, and put the phone down. It was discovered later that there were blood stains on her doorstep. Blood that was found to be a mixture of type A and B, which just happened to relate to Victoria, type A, and Sandra, type B
It is also known that sometime between 10pm and 10:30pm, John called his mother, the Dowager Countess, and asked her to collect his children. He told her of a “terrible catastrophe” at his wife’s home, and that he had driven past the house when he saw Veronica fighting with a man in the basement. When he entered the home, he found her there screaming.
The location of the origin of these calls remains unknown to this day.
Veronica was taken by ambulance to St George’s Hospital and police went to her home at 46 Lower Belgrave. There, they found Sandra’s dead body.
When Detective Chief Superintendent, Roy Ranson, arrived at 46 Lower Belgrave Street, early the next day, Sandra Rivett had already been pronounced dead. Forensics and photographers were already set to work.
They found no sign of forced entry, other than the front door, which the first two officers on the scene had to kick in. As Veronica had described, they found a towel in her bed and the area around the top of the staircase leading to the basement was heavily bloodstained.
Photos hanging in the stairway were knocked askew, the banister rail was damaged, and at the bottom of the stairs were the teacups and saucers, sitting in a pool of blood. The light fixture at the bottom of the stairs was missing its bulb – which was found sitting on a nearby chair. They also found a bloodstained lead pipe, and on it, hair belonging to Victoria – but not Sandra.
Then there was the canvas sack, which lay in an ever-expanding pool of blood. Inside was the body of Sandra Rivett, her arm protruding from the sack.
Blood analysis indicated that Sandra had been attacked and killed in the basement, while Veronica was attacked at the top of the stairs.
Leaving through the back door, they found blood spattered on various leaves in the garden.
Officers searched John’s home at 5 Eaton Row, and then his last known address at 72a Elizabeth Street on advice from his mother. They found nothing to implicate him, however what they did find was rather bizarre.
On the bed lay a suit and a shirt. There was a book on Greek shipping millionaires, and looking to his bedside table, they found his wallet, car keys, money, drivers license, handkerchief, and glasses. In a drawer lay his passport. Outside, his blue Mercedes Benz sat, the engine cold.
Detective Ranson visited Veronica at the hospital. She lay heavily sedated but was still able to relate the details of her attack. Just for safety, a police officer was left to guard her.
The body of Sandra Rivett was taken to the mortuary and subjected to a postmortem exam. The pathologist, Keith Simpson, concluded that the had been dead prior to being placed in the sack, and that her death was a result of blunt force trauma and drowning in her own blood. It was very likely the lead pipe found at the scene was the murder weapon.
Sandra’s estranged husband, her boyfriends – current and past, as well as other male friends, were all questioned. Their alibis were confirmed, and they were cleared of all suspicion.
A search of the area, gardens, basements, etc. turned up no sign of John Lucan, leaving investigators no choice to give his description to police forces across the UK, as well as news stations – which were only informed that he was wanted for questioning.
At around 12:30am, John called his mother again to let her know that he would be in contact with her later that day. Though police were with her, he declined to speak with them, instead saying he would call them later in the day. It is known that John took the Ford Corsair and drove 42 miles to Uckfield, in East Sussex, where he met with his friends, the Maxwell-Scotts. There he wrote two letters to his brother-in-law, Bill Shand Kydd, and addressed them to his London address. Ian Maxwell-Scott later called Shand Kydd to tell him about the letters, prompting him to immediately drive to London to collect them. Noting they were bloodstained, he immediately took them to Ranson.
Letter to Bill Shand Kydd #1 from Lord Lucan
7th Nov. 1974
Dear Bill,
The most ghastly circumstances arose tonight which I briefly described to my mother. When I interrupted the fight at Lower Belgrave St. and the man left Veronica accused me of having hired him. I took her upstairs and sent Frances up to bed and tried to clean her up. She lay doggo for a bit and when I was in the bathroom left the house. The circumstantial evidence against me is strong in that V will say it was all my doing. I will also lie doggo for a bit but I am only concerned for the children If you can manage it I want them to live with you – Coutts (Trustees) St Martins Lane (Mr Wall) will handle school fees. V. has demonstrated her hatred for me in the past and would do anything to see me accused For George and Frances to go through life knowing their father had stood in the dock for attempted murder would be too much. When they are old enough to understand, explain to them the dream of paranoia, and look after them.
Yours ever
John
Letter to Bill Shand Kydd #2 From Lord Lucan
There is a sale coming up at Christies 27 Nov which will satisfy bank overdrafts. Please agree reserves with Tom Craig.
Proceeds to go to:
Lloyds: 6 Pall Mall,
Coutts, 59, Strand,
Nat West, Bloomsbury Branch,
who also hold an Eq. and Law Life Policy.
The other creditors can get lost for the time being.
Lucky
Susan Maxwell-Scott is the last known person to have seen John Lucan. When asked why she didn’t immediately contact the police, she said she hadn’t seen or heard any news that would have indicated to her that she should. She did report, however, that he looked “disheveled” and that his hair was “a little ruffled.” Susan said his pants had a damp spot on his right hip. Somewhat contradicting her earlier statement, she claimed that he had told her he was passing by Veronica’s house when he saw her being attacked by a man. He had let himself in but slipped in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs. He told her the attacker had run off, but Veronica was “very hysterical” and accused him of hiring a hitman to kill her.
Thanks to the news, a few leads came in, one in particular claimed they had seen the Ford Corsair that he had been seen driving. Witnesses suggest the car had been parked there sometime between 5am and 8am on Friday, November 8. The car was found on Sunday in Norman Road, Newhaven, which was approximately 16 miles away from Uckfield, his last known sighting. In the trunk they found a piece of lead pipe, covered in surgical tape and a full bottle of vodka. The lead pipe had neither blood nor hair on it.
Blood found inside the car was both type A and type B – again, linking it to Veronica and Sandra. They found hair as well, which appeared as though it could belong to Veronica.
Then Michael Stoop, the owner of the Ford Corsair, received a letter from John, delivered to his club, the St James’s. Unfortunately, Stoop threw the envelope away, making it impossible to check the postmark and trace its origin location.
Letter to Michael Stoop from Lord Lucan
My Dear Michael,
I have had a traumatic night of unbelievable coincidence. However I won’t bore you with anything or involve you except to say that when you come across my children, which I hope you will, please tell them that you knew me and that all I cared about was them. The fact that a crooked solicitor and a rotten psychiatrist destroyed me between them will be of no importance to the children. I gave Bill Shand Kydd an account of what actually happened but judging by my last effort in court no-one, let alone a 67 year old judge – would believe – and I no longer care except that my children should be protected.
Yours ever,
John
This letter lead Detective Ranson to suspect suicide, but a thorough search of Newhaven Downs was declared impossible. A partial search was conducted with the help of tracker dogs, but all they turned up was the unrelated skeletal remains of a judge who had disappeared years earlier.
Divers searched the harbor; they even conducted a partial search utilizing infrared photography the following year. John Lucan was nowhere to be found.
On November 12, 1974, a warrant was issued for his arrest for the murder of Sandra Rivett, and attempted murder of his wife. His description, already issued to police across the UK, was then passed on to Interpol. He was found guilty of murder on June 19, 1975, even though he still had not been found. His family believe he wasn’t given a fair trial, that the case was one-sided. Some would argue that without him present, a defense was nearly impossible.
Richard John Lucan, Lord Lucan, was never seen again. Though there have been more than 70 sightings over the years, not one of them turned up anything.
It is worth noting that Taki Theodoracopulos, who recalled John as being as a close friend for more than a decade, lent him £3,000 in cash just three nights before the murder.
There have been many theories over the years ranging from, he committed suicide, to he started a new life in Africa. One theory even suggests he was fed to a tiger. In fact, John Aspinall was a zoo owner, and his mother told the press, “The last I heard of him, he was being fed to the tigers at my son’s zoo.” His disappearance was so bizarre, that police even investigated this tip, searching the house and animal cages.
John Lucan was formally pronounced dead on February 3, 2016.
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