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Camilla Rowan
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Camilla Rowan (born 30 September 1980), a former physiotherapist from Gloucestershire, England, is serving a life sentence for the 1997 murder of her newborn baby. She served the first years of her sentence in HMP Holloway, London, but when that prison closed in 2016 she was transferred to HMP Heathside, an adult female/closed category prison in Esher, Surrey. She was born in Gloucester, England, to Richard (‘Dick’) Rowan, a property developer (born 1944), and his wife, Margaret (known as Peggy), née Cummings (born 1950). The family lived in Shiphampton, and Rowan attended Burghley Abbey, a prestigious private girls’ school. Rowan vehemently denied killing her child at her 2003 Old Bailey murder trial, but the jury returned a unanimous verdict of guilty, and Justice Sir Jacob Gordon sentenced her to life, with a recommended minimum term of seventeen years.[1] Rowan’s legal team have lodged various appeals against her conviction, and the Criminal Cases Review Commission reassessed the case in 2016,[2] after the journalist John Penrose conducted a re-examination of the evidence as part of the documentary series Infamous, which aired on Netflix in March 2016.[3]
Adam Fawley
23 October
10.29
‘There was a Netflix show about the case, wasn’t there?’ says Gis. ‘Couple of years ago?’
I nod. Alex watched it, but I tuned out most of the time. Too much like hard work. Or actual work. But there are some things I remember, things I hadn’t taken much notice of at the time. Like how mercilessly the Rowans were pursued after the verdict, and not just by the press. The abuse they suffered, the vandalism, and – far more important, given where we are now – the lengths all that finally pushed them to.
I glance up at Gis, and it’s obvious from his face he’s remembering the same thing.
‘So what do you think – could the vic be another journo?’
And he’s right to ask: it’s by far the simplest explanation. The Rowans manhandled mountains to stay under the radar: they moved house, they changed their name, they obliterated their old lives. And now suddenly, all these years later, without warning, there’s a ring on the bell one dark night and the whole ordeal starts up again. The idea that they’d take a gun to a random housebreaker strained everyone’s credulity, including mine; taking a gun to someone who brought that nightmare back to their door? That’s a theory that makes sense.
But it needs stress-testing, all the same.
I take a deep breath. ‘Wouldn’t a newspaper have reported one of their reporters missing by now?’
Hansen looks at Gis, and then at me. ‘Could be a freelance, looking to make a name for himself?’
‘Well, let’s just hope he’s not about to manage it. For all the wrong reasons.’
Gis nods grimly. ‘Careful what you wish for, eh?’
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Channeclass="underline"
Netflix
Programme:
Infamous, season 4
Number of episodes:
4
First shown:
09/03/2016
[THEME SONG – ’KARMA CHAMELEON’ [CULTURE CLUB]]
TITLE OVER:
INFAMOUS
FADE IN
THE CHAMELEON GIRL
MONTAGE: shots of Camilla Rowan – as a baby, as a toddler, on a swing, with her parents in the garden, building a sandcastle, with her pet dog, on her pony, etc.
VOICEOVER
She was a little princess. An only child from a wealthy and high-profile family, and the apple of her father’s eye. Smart, pretty, and popular, and so good at sport she played at county level. A responsible, kind-hearted girl who raised money for charity, and was trusted to babysit her neighbours’ children. Everyone agreed: Camilla Rowan had a bright future ahead of her.
So what went wrong?
How did Camilla the beloved daughter, happy student, and school captain – a girl who, by all accounts, had never put a foot wrong – turn, seemingly overnight, into Milly Liar the murderer? Reviled in the press, screamed at in the street, and charged with killing her own child.
MONTAGE: clips relating to the trial – newspaper headlines, people holding banners and shouting outside the court, Camilla trying to escape the cameras, her hand in front of her face, her parents trying to fight their way through journalists outside their house, the words ‘baby killer’ daubed in red paint across a garage door, interspersed with vox pops/news broadcasts/clips from later interviews:
VOICE 1
She deserved everything she got – anyone who could do that to an innocent child. If you ask me, in cases like that, life should mean life.
NEWS ITEM 1
There were dramatic scenes outside the Old Bailey today, as Camilla Rowan appeared in the dock for the first time. Protesters hurled abuse at the 23-year-old, who had arrived at court flanked by her parents and defence barrister.
VOICE 2
Rowan was given a full psychiatric assessment before her trial, and was deemed fit to plead. But the full results of that assessment have never been made public. Is she a sociopath? Is she a narcissist? Or is she just a pathological liar?
VOICE 3
The Camilla I knew – she just couldn’t have done anything like that. Not her own baby. Not any baby. I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now.
NEWS ITEM 2
After six sensational weeks the trial of Camilla Rowan came to a shocking conclusion today, with the former head girl being sentenced to life for the murder of her newborn child.
VOICE 4
The reason why we’re still so obsessed with this case, even all these years later, is that it challenges so many of our basic human beliefs – about trust and truth, about our capacity for cruelty, and the sanctity of maternal love. I think we’re all terrified that if we dared look into the darkest corners of our own hearts we’d find Camilla Rowan staring straight back at us.
Cut to: John’s office. Files, desk, photos and docs from the case pinned on a board behind.
JOHN PENROSE
I covered the Camilla Rowan case for the Guardian back in 2003. I sat through every day of the trial, and I watched her that whole time. And I had no more idea of who she was at the end than I did at the beginning. The verdict didn’t come as a surprise, and at the time I definitely didn’t think there’d been any great miscarriage of justice. But there were still things that bugged me. Questions that neither the prosecution nor defence had managed to answer. So after I filed my last report I thought I’d spend a few days seeing what I could find. Thirteen years later, I’m still doing it.
Because this is the sort of case that, as a journalist, you only encounter once in a lifetime. It raises question after question after question, and yet the one person who could give us some answers still steadfastly refuses to do so. We all know she lied, but that doesn’t mean she lied about everything. Are there scraps of truth hidden in the bizarre and deeply disturbing story she told the police, and has never since deviated from? If there are, she’s not telling. But the truth, as they say, is out there. And to find it, I needed to understand not just the woman she became, but the girl she was before.
TITLE APPEARS OVER, TYPEWRITER STYLE:
Part one
“And you used to be so sweet”
Panoramic drone shot over Gloucestershire countryside. Summer sunlight. A village with a church, stone houses, a river winding through.