The Last Sacrifice
In 1945, a farm labourer called Charles Walton was murdered in Lower Quinton, a tiny village in Warwickshire. He was killed with a pitchfork and a billhook, which made for a gruesome corpse – but were also probably easily to hand as agricultural implements. The case remains unsolved, though Inspector Fabian – inspiration for the TV show Fabian of the Yard – was called in by the local cops and didn’t get his man. Later, Margaret Mead – of The Witch Cult fame – poked about the case, and made an association with witchcraft which has turned this minor murder into the linch-pin of a mushroom growth of fantastical business connected with the revival of interest in the occult in the 1960s and 1970s.
The case inspired TV episodes (Boris Karloff’s Thriller as well as a Crown Court), novels (Ritual, Straw Dogs), TV plays (Robin Redbreast) and films (The Wicker Man). Indeed, the influence was so pervasive that director Rupert Russell is able to reconstruct the case almost collage style using clips from Curse of the Crimson Altar, Doomwatch, The Blood Beast Terror, etc. Also chipping in are friendly faces Jonathan Rigby, Leila Latif, Janet Farrar (wife of the interesting Stewart Farrar), Gavin Bone, Tim Stanley and other clever folk who start from the Walton case and stray into many, many other occult-related items … including the careers of self-publicists Alex Sanders (King of the Witches) and David Farrant (of the Highgate Vampire kerfuffle) and how they influence the likes of Virgin Witch and Dracula AD 1972 along with that weird strain of sexy documentaries (Secret Rites, Legend of the Witches) and a whole host of very interesting TV material from the 1970s featuring well-spoken folk investigating exorcisms or poltergeists.
In the end, there’s no sudden reveal of a culprit and a key witness – Walton’s niece – pooh-poohs the spook stories (which involve a nearby witch killing in the 19th century and some stuff about an evil black dog illustrated by dear old Zoltan Hound of Dracula) as it seems even Fabian dropped some creepy business into his autobiography just to downplay the fact that he never caught the killer. After all, you can’t have it both ways – and the occult reading of the murder has it that Walton was either killed by witches in a ritual or in a ritual because he was a witch. Not the victim of some angry, argumentative bloke who reached for a handy bill-hook. An intriguing, impressive invocation of the surprisingly recent roots of what has been passed off as an ancient tradition – and for the uninitiated a handy catalogue of further viewing required.
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