THE SILENCE OF NATURE

The Silence of Nature

a true story

by

Albert Woods

The ‘Jersey Monster’, the ‘Monster of Jersey’, the ‘Jersey Beast’ – all epithets accorded to a fiend who terrorised the island’s inhabitants during his fifteen-year spree of child abuse; both boys and girls, even the occasional adult female. Donning a hideous face mask and wig, his modus operandi generally ran to a pattern; enter a house at the dead of night, threaten the kiddie with throat-cutting, take them out to a field then, depending on his mood, choose and perform one of the sick acts from his repertoire. Oddly, if he felt it safe to do so, he would return the child to its house and bed afterwards.

Descriptions of the assailant were in general agreement. Apart from the ghastly disguise he was shortish, below medium height, exceptionally strong, had rough calloused hands and wore a dirty raincoat tied with cord over gumboots below. The coat lapels had been equipped with projecting sharp nails, as had his leather wristbands.

Aged forty-five, Alphonse Le Gastelois was a loner. Very private, he lived quietly and frugally in a 16th century cottage that had had little in the way of improvement since its erection. Local people mostly felt kindly towards him as he was ‘harmless enough’, and could be useful when they needed odd jobs doing, bits of woodwork and watch and clock repairs. But it did not surprise them when the police hauled him in for questioning in connection with the series of assaults; after all, he always wore gumboots and an old mac tied with cord, and was given to nocturnal walks around the island because, he claimed, he loved to listen to ‘the silence of nature’.

After two nights in a cell, Alphonse was released without charge, though his only clothes had been taken from him and sent to England for forensic tests. In their place he was provided with ludicrously ill-fitting garb, making him a source of much amusement to others - until word of his apprehension spread.

First came the anonymous accusatory letters to the police; next came stones; those pelted at the loner in the street, soon followed by more thrown through the windows of his cottage. Finally, and whilst he was out, his home was wrecked.

The Écréhous are a reef group of tiny islands and rocks, an hour from Jersey by boat, which include the islet of La Marmotière. The few fishermen’s cottages there were sometimes rented in the summer by holidaymakers wanting a spell away from it all. For the rest of the year the place was uninhabited until, that is, 1961 when, frightened for his safety, Alphonse took up residence. Existing mostly on lobster from rockpools, seaweed and seagull eggs, his first winter was nearly his last, cold and hunger the main threat. But in time, and when word of his plight reached French fishermen, parcels of tinned and dried provender would be regularly left for him; and owners had no objection to his occupying their cottages as, in return, he looked after the maintenance. So now, surviving on basic means, Alphonse started coming to terms with his isolation.

Following his departure from Jersey, suspicion about him intensified as there were no new attacks; so when the police visited to say that tests on his clothing had proved negative, he declined their suggestion to return with them, fearing further, and even worse, persecution.

Three years later the abductions and rapes resumed.

It was 1971 – ten years after the start of Alphonse’s exile – when, in the evening of July 10th, patrol police officers saw a stolen Morris 1100 jumping red traffic lights at Georgetown on the edge of St Helier. They gave chase and two more sets of lights were breached before the car careered off the road into a field. The driver, who had to be brought to the ground by a rugby tackle, was one Edward John Louis Paisnel. He was actually wearing the nail wristbands at the time, and in the vehicle the police found the other trappings of his vile pursuit.

Paisnel’s is a truly bizarre story in its own right, but it is worth mentioning that he was subsequently charged with 21 offences, prosecuted for 13, found guilty on all of these and sentenced to thirty years in prison.

Even with his innocence proven and name cleared, Alphonse Le Gastelois had no intention of ever returning to Jersey. He had become used to and content with his way of life. But in 1975, after nearly fifteen years alone, he was dragged back to face a charge of arson in connection with the mysterious fire in a building on La Marmotière following the visit of officials there to exterminate rabbits. It was suggested that the burning was an act of revenge on his part, rabbit being a source of food to him. Cruelly, he was kept in prison on remand for three months before the trial where, within a few minutes, a jury of twenty-four unanimously pronounced him not guilty.

Alphonse never did return to the reef, probably because of his age and severe back problems. Apart from the last three years of his life in a nursing home, he lived alone as a pauper, but always said that he bore no malice towards those who had turned against him. In fact, he said that they ‘did me a favour!’

This truly remarkable man died in 2012 aged 97.

In winter, and during other spells of bad weather, The Écréhous can be an extremely inhospitable and noisy place, the crashing of fierce tides on the rocks, continuous screeching of gulls, bitter winds howling across the terrain.

Ironically, and though he came to value and jealously guard his solitude, Alphonse had sacrificed more than his liberty through it. He had lost his beloved silence of nature.

Now, one hopes, he has found it again.

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© Albert Woods (2014)

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