Hitman theory could sway Jill Dando jury

By BRONWYN SELL

LONDON - The conspiracy theories over the murder of British television golden girl Jill Dando seem as fanciful as those surrounding the death of her lookalike, Princess Diana.

Both were people's princesses and media darlings, both blond, beautiful and rich.

Diana was murdered in 1997 by rogue British secret service agents, or business enemies of boyfriend Dodi al-Fayed, or she faked her death for privacy.

Or, she was just killed in a freak car crash in a Paris tunnel.

Dando was assassinated in 1999 by a Serb hitman seeking revenge for the Nato bombing of a Belgrade television station, or by a criminal caught by the Crimewatch programme she presented, or someone upset that she fronted an appeal for Kosovan refugees.

Or, she was just killed by unemployed, celebrity-obsessed weapons enthusiast Barry George, who lived 457m away.

Now a jury in the Old Bailey, London, is deliberating for the third day over whether George was the gunman, or whether the Serbian theory offered by George's glib lawyer was crazy enough to be true.

Dando had stayed the night, as usual, with her gynaecologist fiance, Alan Farthing. The next day, April 26, 1999, was a rare day off for the busy television presenter.

Until 11.30 am her morning had been normal. She got up with Farthing and made him a cup of tea, then went back to bed.

On the way to her London house, she smiled at a stranger who recognised her as their cars passed in the street, like the down-to-earth woman she was.

She parked outside her house in the quiet neighbourhood of Gowan Ave, Fulham.

Her neighbour, Richard Hughes, heard her car alarm bleep as she turned it on, then, 30 seconds later, a scream.

Hughes and other neighbours saw a man with thick black hair walking or running down the street, talking on a mobile phone.

Forensics reports say Dando was shot at point-blank range while crouching.

Police say she was just about to put her key in the lock when she was attacked.

Another neighbour, Helen Doble, was walking down the road shortly afterwards and saw Dando's car.

She decided to pop in and say hello, and found the body on the white tiled steps.

Dando was immortalised.

Strangers left flowers and cards at her apartment, and outside the BBC, where she had worked.

Public pressure intensified the search for her killer.

George, 41, dodged police for months. He matched the physical description of the man seen leaving the scene, and had told people he had been there when Dando was shot. He had even lobbied the local council to build a memorial to her.

When police called on him he was living in an "unhygienic, untidy, disorganised" flat, full of newspapers and gun magazines.

He claimed he had not heard of Dando until her death, but police found the outline of a speech he wanted to give at her memorial service and condolence cards he had bought.

He said he had been at a disability rights charity, but the charity told police that he had not turned up until midday - after the murder - and was agitated.

He was so obsessed with celebrity that he had changed his name several times to those of people he admired. He once enlisted in the Army Territorials as Steve Majors - a hybrid of Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man, and the actor who played him, Lee Majors.

But the crux of the prosecution case rests literally on a speck of evidence. A single particle of gunpowder found in George's coat pocket matched residue on Dando's hair. The Crown cannot offer a motive. It suggests George just cracked.

George's lawyer, Michael Mansfield, QC, said the gunpowder could have come from detectives investigating the case. He argued that the execution-style shooting had the hallmarks of a professional hit, and showed police documents to back up the Serbian theory.

George, he said, was merely a local eccentric brought out of the hat to satisfy public demand.