Casefile True Crime - Case 88: Stephen Hilder

Episode Date: July 7, 2018

Most people who try skydiving do it just once – it’s something to tick off the bucket list. But for a small minority, skydiving becomes an obsession, a way of life. While accidents are expected, skydiving deaths are uncommon. On the rare occasion that a jumper loses their life, a universal toast is given: “Blue skies, black death.” --- Episode narrated by the Anonymous Host Episode researched and written by Eileen Ormsby, author of ‘The Darkest Web – Drugs, Death and Destroyed Lives: The inside story of the internet’s evil twin.’ For all credits and sources please visit casefilepodcast.com/case-88-stephen-hilder

Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents. If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local crisis centre. For suggested phone numbers for confidential support, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. Accidents are to be expected in skydiving. It is, after all, an extreme sport. Over 99% of people who jump out of an airplane will do it just once, attached to an instructor. Those people are unlikely to come to any harm.

They're strapped to a professional who has performed thousands of jumps and who makes all the decisions. For the majority of participants, skydiving is a once-in-a-lifetime thrill, just a tick on a bucket list. They never do it again. For the tiny fraction who go on to jump solo, skydiving becomes more than just a thrill. It's an obsession, a lifestyle, something they are rather than merely something they do.

As those starting out get used to the elements of the sport, free fall, canopy flight and landing, they are bound to experience scrapes and bruises, perhaps even a broken bone or two. Skydivers do what they can to minimise risks. They look out for each other, check their own gear and the that of the people they are jumping with, looking out for anything amiss, frayed loops that may not hold a closing pin in properly, flaps that have become untucked, webbing that is wearing out. These close-knit communities build on equal parts adrenaline and trust.

Accidents are to be expected in skydiving, but deaths are rare. Most skydivers are prepared to encounter a fatal accident at some time if they stick with the sport for long enough. When a jumper loses his or her life, a universal traditional toast is given. Blue Scars, Black Death. 20-year-old Steven Hilda was embarking on what he hoped would be a solid week of skydiving. His girlfriend, Root Woodhouse, often joked Steven would get withdrawal symptoms if he hadn't jumped for a few days.

By 2003 he had become obsessed with the sport. He missed an exam in favour of going jumping and maxed out credit cards to buy expensive equipment. He jumped as often as possible, even travelling to other parts of the world when the weather in Britain became too cold. In mid-2003, Root had taken her first jump with the enthusiastic support of Steven, but she was not yet sure the sport was for her. Steven hadn't been able to jump on Saturday, June 28, 2003.

He spent the day at a Bon Jovi concert at Hyde Park. He took his father along as an early birthday present, though it was hard to say whether the gift was more for his dad or for him. The following day, Steven managed to get in a couple of jumps at his home parachuting drop zone, the village of Netheraven in England South. On Monday, June 30, Steven visited a theme park with his girlfriend, Ruth. That evening, he made the 160km drive to the drop zone at Hibbled Stowe Airfield in Lincoln shire.

Hibbled Stowe Airfield was hosting the upcoming Collegiate Nationals, a competition between college skydiving clubs. Steven was participating as a member of a three-man team. At around 300 jumps, Steven was considered an intermediate level skydiver, as were his teammates, Adrian Blair and David Mason. Both 19 years old, Adrian and David were cadets with Steven at the Royal Military College of Science at Shrivenham. Both were on a military course and would be arriving to Hibbled Stowe Airfield for the

comp later in the week. Steven hoped to get a few practice jumps in before then. There were bunk rooms where jumpers could hire a bed at the drop zone if they wanted to, but few did that. They preferred to pitch tents, throw down a mattress in the corner of a hangar, or sleep in their cars, as Steven did. The money they saved on accommodation was better spent on jumps. It was a quiet night when Steven arrived to the airfield.

He had a couple of drinks at the drop zone bar and then went to his car and retired for the night. The weather was threatening to be unkind to skydivers that week. The plane couldn't take off at all on Tuesday, July 1, and Chief Instructor Paul Hollow soon announced that jumping was off for the day. So Steven drove 11 miles to a gas station where he bought some snacks. On Wednesday, July 2, there were just two or three jumps before the skydivers were again grounded.

Steven was on one of these. With him was his coach, wearing a camera on his helmet, so that when Steven's teammates arrived later that evening, they could watch the footage and critique his style. Nobody knows whether Steven packed up his parachute himself after landing, or if he hired one of the professional packers to do it for him, but it was likely to be the former. Skydivers packed their main parachutes themselves, but there was always someone else ready to do it for five quid. After his parachute was packed, Steven left it in the kit room.

The kit room walls were lined with racks of parachute kits hanging on by their shoulder straps. The racks kept them off the ground and made it easy for skydivers to identify and grab their kit when it was time for a jump. Each skydivers' parachute harness was distinctive. One's was black, white, and grey, unusual in its lack of brighter colours. Kit rooms are not usually monitored, and are accessible to anybody on the drop zone to come and go as they please.

The kit room at Hibbledstowe Airfield also doubled as a lounge room. Skydivers could hang out or watch TV there when not jumping. That Wednesday evening, Steven Hilda's teammates, Adrian and David, arrived. A welcome party was held at the drop zone bar. The trio drank and joined in games like past the parcel. Most of the 78 competitors for the collegiate nationals had arrived. They all hoped the competition would be starting the next day. But the weather on Thursday, July 3, had other plans.

Thunderstorms lashed much of the United Kingdom, signalling the beginning of a heatwave. Drivers were advised early that there would be no jumping that day, and quite likely none the next. With skydiving not an option, the competitors, drop zone staff, and other skydivers, known as fun jumpers, had to find something else to do. Steven Hilda went shopping for something to wear for the fancy dress party that was to be held that evening, whilst his teammates went to the cinema. In the great college tradition, a scavenger hunt was organised in the afternoon, with

porn and female underwear on the list of items competitors had to come up with. Bonus points were awarded for completing random, gross tasks. Steven valiantly scoffed down some dog food in an effort to win the prize, which was so inconsequential nobody could remember what it was. After a BBQ dinner, Steven, Adrian and David spent a couple of hours getting ready for the party. They arrived at the drop zone bar around 9pm. The party was already in full swing, with many people having started drinking in the

early afternoon. The oppressive heat inside the shed where the bar was housed ensured everyone was thirsty. The party had a fancy dress theme, to come as any character starting with the letters B, C, P or A, the acronym of the British Collegiate Parachute Association, the organisers of the competition. The truly lazy turned up in their jumpsuits as parachutists. Among the cops, cheerleaders, punks, pilots and angels, several men dressed in drag, claiming they had come as bitches.

Steven Hilda was one of the bitches, wearing a leather dress he had found at a thrift store earlier that day. Skydivers party hard at the best of times. With a bunch of college aged competitors who had pent up frustration of not having jumped, many of them took partying to the extreme. The bar did a roaring trade that night. Steven grabbed the karaoke microphone to belt out some of his favourite Bon Jovi tunes. He was a natural performer, whose other hobby was amateur dramatics.

He sang deliberately terribly to the delight of the crowd. Throughout the night he was joined by Adrian and David, the group howling progressively cheesier tunes into the microphone together. The party broke up at 2.30am. If the weather cleared, there was still the chance of competition jumps the next day. There is a strict rule Skydivers and pilots must adhere to, eight hours between bottle and throttle. When weather permits, jumping starts soon after sunrise.

If a safety officer saw a Skydiver drinking at 2am, they wouldn't be allowed to board the plane until at least 10am. In a competition, that could mean forfeiting around and scoring a zero. Partygoers memories were hazy the following morning, Friday, July 4th. Steven Hilda slept late, as did a good number of people at the drop zone, knowing that once they started moving, the hangovers would kick in. There was no hurry to get up. The day was overcast and parachuting through cloud is dangerous and in most cases prohibited.

After emerging from his car, Steven joined a game of cards in the drop zone cafe. Competitors waited on word from their chief instructor to give the all clear to jump. It was touch and go, but finally the competitors were told that if the break in the weather held on, they could jump after lunch. Steven, Adrian and David were more than ready to be on the first flight of the day. They were particularly excited for this competition, as their team, called Black Rain, was doing well. Earlier that year they came third in a regional competition and first in another.

They grabbed their gear from the kit room. The first step prior to boarding the plane was to turn on a tiny electronic device known as a Cypress. The Cypress was a failsafe that automatically released the reserve parachute if its owner was still in free fall at 1200 feet. That is far lower than they should be. If a skydiver had not released their parachute by then, they were only around 6 seconds from impact.

Most skydivers had a Cypress, including Steven Hilda. They are a backup if a skydiver gets distracted and forgets to deploy their shoot, or if they get knocked or somehow incapacitated in free fall. In that case, the Cypress fires. It cuts through the loop that holds in the spring-loaded reserve pilot shoot and releases it, giving the skydiver the best chance of landing safely, even if unconscious. Once the little screen confirmed that the Cypress was activated, Steven gave his gear a quick check over to ensure nothing looked amiss.

No flaps untucked, no frayed closing loops, and ensuring the pilot shoot was snugly tucked in its sleeve. The pilot shoot is a miniature parachute. It sits in an elastic sleeve at the bottom of the parachute container, with just the padded cushion sticking out. When it's time to deploy, the skydiver grabs hold of the pad and pulls. The pilot shoot then comes out. Once it hits the air, it inflates.

It then pulls the pin that allows the main parachute out of the container. Steven's team donned their jumpsuits and parachutes and performed a dirt dive, a ritualistic dance mimicking the formations they planned to do in the sky. Each new formation would count as a point in the competition. They laughed and ripped each other and handed up for the cameraman, someone drawn from the competition's camera pool and whom they didn't know particularly well. The cameraman's job was to soar a little above the team and make sure every formation was captured on film so that it could be judged.

Some people considered Steven a little cocky, but that was par for the course for young men involved in extreme sports, especially when they were doing well at them. Older skydivers are well aware of the problems of being too cocky and make sure young jumpers don't forget their safety checks. The highest risk group for serious injury is young male skydivers with around 200-500 jumps, using a fast, high performance parachute. Steven, Adrian and David had all pumped out jumps at a much faster rate than average. Adrian and David had gone through training together the previous December.

Since then, virtually all of their skydives had been together and the two had become close. Many of their jumps occurred in the United States, where planes were bigger, drop zones busier and jumping was a year-round sport. Previously, the team had candidly talked about different ways of dying. Steven told the others that if he was going to end his own life, he would want to jump out of a plane. The other two agreed. For all his lurrican behaviour, Steven took safety seriously.

Adrian and David often found his rigid adherence to safety manuals annoying. As a result, they'd play pranks on the older cadet, like booking him in for a student jump that he was overqualified for, or hiding pieces of his skydiving gear. These pranks were designed to annoy Steven, rather than endanger him. Prior to boarding the plane, the men performed a flight line check on each other. Once again, they made sure everything was as it should be. He-conscious Steven performed the check on both his teammates. David performed the check on Steven.

David had a pattern he followed when conducting checks of his teammates' gear. He did so in a methodical order that he stuck to every time. He believed if you changed your system, it was too easy to miss something. Once finished, each man firmly padded the backpack of the other. Black Rain shared the light, single-engine aircraft with one other team. A total of eight skydivers were on board. Drop zone planes have no seats, so the skydivers sat on the floor facing the rear. Each person was between the legs of the skydiver behind them.

The two cameramen knelt at the back of the group, so they could see everyone on board. The propeller fired up for the first load of the day, and Black Rain's first jump for the competition. As the plane took off, Black Rain's videographer turned on his camera. The footage caught Steven Hildo laughing and joking. As the plane got near the competition height of 13,000 feet, he and his teammates did one last gear check. They performed a ritual handshake before climbing into position in the door of the airplane. The three then launched up the edge into the open sky. Their exit didn't go completely to plan.

It funneled in skydiverspeak, meaning they didn't come off cleanly. But they recovered after a few seconds and started their pre-planned formations. After 10 seconds, they reached terminal velocity, the speed at which the body stops accelerating. At this stage, they were falling at around 200km per hour toward the Earth. For the next 45 seconds, the team continually changed their hand and leg grips to maneuver in the sky. With each new formation, they earned points for the competition. For an intermediate team, 10 points was good, 15 points was excellent. That day, Black Rain received a competition winning 19 points.

It was the best jump the team had ever done together. They knew they'd aced it before their freefall was even finished. Barring a miracle from another team, they would be crowned national champions. The three exhilarated men made eye contact and screamed through their huge grins at each other, even though it was impossible to hear anything through the rushing wind. At 4,000 feet, around a minute after they had exited the plane, the three teammates turned away from each other to gain horizontal separation before they deployed their parachutes. The camera no longer needed to stay on them, but in any case, the camera lost sight of them due to cloud.

After deploying their parachute, the first thing a skydiver is trained to do is to look around to see where everyone else is. Two people colliding mid-air spells disaster. As he descended, a big wad of white fabric swept past Adrian's vision. It registered as out of place, but he didn't make anything of it at the time. He was still buzzing from the amazing jump and was focused on preparing his landing, usually the most dangerous part of the skydive. Chief instructor Paul Hollow was on the ground, fires on the sky. With the cloudy weather, he knew it was possible for a skydiver to overshoot the hangar and land in the nearby cornfields.

Anyone making such a transgression would be made to buy a case of beer that night and ring a bell above the bar, alerting everyone that there was free beer to be had. It looked like there would be free beer that night. Hollow noticed the skydiver had landed in the cornfield. He dispatched one of his instructors to go and retrieve them. The instructor returned with a bundle in his arms. It was a white parachute. A main parachute may be many colors, but only reserve parachutes are white.

Ears of experience meant Hollow only had the glance at the stray white parachute to know something had gone seriously wrong. Accidents are accepted as being an integral part of skydiving. Deaths are rare. Death by double malfunction, where both parachutes fail, is almost unheard of. Usually, some sort of error on behalf of the skydiver causes a fatality. They may turn their parachute too close to the ground, hoping to build up speed for a really cool landing, but misjudge and hit too hard. They may deal badly with the malfunction of their main parachute and deploy their reserve parachute into it, causing the two to tangle. Two skydivers might collide midair, either in freefall or under their parachutes, rendering one or both unconscious and unable to land safely.

But never had Paul Hollow seen nor heard of an incident where a reserve parachute broke away from the rest of the skydiving kit and the person wearing it. A main parachute has special release rings, so a skydiver can detach it if it's malfunctioning. However, a reserve parachute is permanently attached. There's no getting rid of it, unless you cut it with a knife or climb out of the harness in midair. Paul Hollow climbed onto the roof of a car and scanned the surrounding fields. He spotted a large, unnatural indentation in the tall stalks of corn. He climbed down and headed into the field towards the indentation. He found Stephen Hilda.

Having hit the ground at almost 200 kilometers per hour, the corn had done nothing to break Stephen's fall. He was still wearing his skydiving harness, but neither of his parachutes were billowing around him as he would normally expect. A single glance at Stephen's shoulder area told Hollow all he needed to know. Stephen's gear had been tampered with. His parachute sabotaged. Chief Instructor Paul Hollow called the police. Detective Superintendent Colin Andrews of Humberside Police arrived at the airfield. Paul Hollow took him aside and told him immediately that this was no ordinary skydiving accident.

The dead man's equipment had been interfered with. Skydiving experts were able to piece together what happened. A long piece of a webbing called the bridle connected the pilot chute to the pin that opens the container where the main parachute is stored. Stephen's bridle had been cut. The cut bridle and the pilot chute had been stuffed back into the elastic sleeve. There would be no way of telling it was tampered with without pulling the pilot chute out of the sleeve. And there would be no reason to do that unless you suspected something was wrong. This meant the pilot chute was no longer attached to the pin.

When Stephen pulled it out at deployment height and let it go, there was nothing to pull the pin and drag the main parachute out of the container. So it stayed lodged in there, impossible for Stephen to do anything to get it out. When he realized his main parachute was malfunctioning, Stephen pulled the handle that deployed his white reserve chute. It launched. But all four pieces of webbing that attached the reserve canopy to his harness, called the risers, had also been cut. The reserve parachute simply flew away. Stephen had no more parachutes left.

All this would have happened between 4,000 and 2,000 feet above the ground. Plummeting at terminal velocity, Stephen had to endure at least 10 to 20 seconds of knowing he was going to die and there was nothing he could have done about it. The Cyprus he had so carefully set prior to take off did its job, but fired, but there was no reserve parachute for it to release. From the moment Stephen exited the aircraft, he was a dead man. Nothing could have saved him. Whoever sabotaged his kit knew exactly what they were doing, both in terms of guaranteeing the sabotage would kill him and ensuring it was done in a manner that it would not be picked up by a regular pre-flight gear check.

The damage to the reserve risers would only have been made evident by firmly pulling on them. This action is not part of a regular check and is not recommended from a safety perspective as it could disturb the pack job. Whoever tampered with Stephen Hilda's parachute knew exactly how to hide the evidence from even experienced skydivers. Therefore, it could only have been done by somebody with intimate knowledge of skydiving equipment. A skydiver. The drop zone was officially declared a crime scene. Detective Superintendent Andrews was certain whoever killed Stephen Hilda was present and watched him die. Police set to work interviewing everybody on the airfield, the 78 competitors and 20 or so others.

Every person willingly agreed to submit to a DNA swap. As soon as they were allowed to, all of the skydivers checked their own parachutes. The police insisted everyone pop out their reserve parachutes. This was a big deal, as reserve parachutes are rarely deployed and they have to be repacked by a certified reserve packer. Most skydivers are not qualified to pack their own. Police wanted to determine whether Stephen had been targeted specifically or if the perpetrator had targeted other skydivers. All other parachutes were checked, but there was no evidence any other wreak had been tampered with. Police asked an expert from the British Parachute Association, John Hitchin, to cut some of Stephen's riser webbing so that it could be sent for DNA testing.

They provided Hitchin with a pair of kitchen scissors, but he was unable to cut through the webbing, so Hitchin asked for a hook knife, which was easily able to cut through. Hook knives are a standard part of a skydiver's kit. They have a protected blade, a compact, easily stowed and removed, and attached to the harness. They are a last resort used to cut through any malfunctioning or hazardous equipment, such as a parachute cord wrapped around a limo helmet. Every skydiver carried one. This meant police had around a hundred potential murder weapons on the drop zone that day. Police wanted to shed some light on the events leading up to Stephen's death, specifically the party the night before. Partygoers were asked to hand over video and photographs from that night to police, who spent hours pouring over them.

But all they found was a raucous party. There was no sign of any tension, arguments or fights. When asked for a possible motive for the murder, everyone came up blank. It was not Stephen's usual drop zone, so he wasn't as well known as if he were a local. Everyone who did know him or who had interacted with him repeated the same thing. Stephen was popular, fun-loving and enthusiastic. One friend stated, he was a good lad, fun in the air and on the ground. The time frame of his parachute being sabotaged was believed to have occurred some time between Stephen's last jump on Wednesday and the early hours of Friday morning.

There were a finite number of suspects, had had to be a skydiver who was at the drop zone over those days, which came to less than 100 people. Police left the crime scene with over 200 pieces of potential evidence, and they had DNA samples from everyone present to compare against Stephen's equipment. They were confident it wouldn't be long before a suspect was identified. Less than 48 hours later, on Sunday, July 6, skydivers, including Stephen's teammates Adrian and David, were back in the air in tribute. They all had added an extra step in their pre-flight checks. The sabotage of Stephen's gear had been expertly carried out to avoid detection from a standard check, so now a firm tug on the reserve risers prior to jumping became part of the routine. Over the next week, police formally interviewed Stephen's family, friends, his girlfriend Ruth, as well as skydivers who were at the drop zone. They were hoping to find a motive, someone he had a beef with, jealousy, or a perceived slight.

But the worst thing anyone could come up with was that Stephen could be perceived as arrogant. His mother described him as, quote, an extraordinary son, an ordinary, infuriating lad who, above all else, loved skydiving. The forensics lab discovered nothing noteworthy on the vast majority of Stephen's items. The slashed risers had many people's DNA on them, so it was impossible to pick out individuals from the mix. This was not unexpected. As well as Stephen's DNA, there would have been the DNA of anyone who had packed his reserve, as Stephen was not qualified to pack his own. As well as DNA of the first responders, and perhaps those who had been in the plane with him, given the close proximity in which the skydivers were packed together. One week after Stephen's death, police had no firm suspects and were no closer to making an arrest.

They sent a message to all 4,000 active skydivers in the UK. It read, The investigation into the death of Stephen is ongoing. I am appealing for your help. Many of you will have known him and enjoyed his company socially and through his love of skydiving. Someone knows who committed this vile act, and I ask that you contact me in total confidence. You may have opinions or information as to how Stephen met his death. Was he killed?

If so, why? Or would he ever contemplate taking his own life? I need to speak to as many of his friends and associates as possible. Please contact the incident room if you have any information that could assist us. I would also like to thank the many who already have. Sincerely, Humbeside Police. The mention of suicides seemed to be just covering all possibilities. Certainly suicides were more common on the drop zone than murder.

However, nothing in Stephen's demeanour suggested he was in any way suicidal. Witness statements and video evidence showed Stephen was in a good mood the night before and day of his death. He displayed actions to save his own life, not ended. This included setting up his Cyprus pre-flight and going through life-saving emergency procedures whilst falling. These were not the desperate actions of a suicidal man changing his mind at the last second and frantically trying any method to save himself. They were the responsible, practised actions of a seasoned skydiver. Media scrutiny in the weeks following Stephen's death was intense. His parents made him patient pleas for anyone who might know anything to come forward.

They visited the airfield to try and make some sense out of what happened. Police hoped the presence of grieving family members would stir the conscience of someone who was keeping a secret. Stephen's black rain teammates, Adrian Blair and David Mason, were interviewed by the press. They relived the day where their best jump ever became a nightmare. They remarked Stephen was bright, excited and in his normal buoyant mood before the skydive. David felt guilty. He had been the one to do Stephen's gear check prior to the jump. He said he didn't notice anything amiss and the experts agreed.

There was no way a standard pre-flight check would have discovered the sabotage. On July 12, 2003, The Times reported, quote, The police have failed to identify any suspects and skydivers are gripped by the fear that there is a murderer in their midst. A few facts are clear, say the police. The death of Stephen, 20, was neither an accident nor suicide. This was not a prank gone wrong and the killer is almost certainly a skydiver. He or she may strike again. Stephen's case was a major topic of discussion

Because of the competition, there had been skydivers from all over the country at Hibbled Stowe that week. This meant the culprit could be a jumper at any one of the two dozen or so drop zones in the United Kingdom. Many skydivers changed their habits in fear of being targeted by the unknown offender next. Parachutes were kept locked in cars when not in use. Hibbled Stowe installed lockers to take the place of the pegs in the common room for a year. Some drop zones toyed with installing CCTV cameras in the hangars and sales of tamper-proof gear bags soared. Three weeks later, the death of Stephen Hilda featured on the TV show Crime Watch. Police believed someone other than the person responsible knew something.

They encouraged that person to come forward. They also released a video footage of the fancy dress party the night before Stephen's death. They hoped it would jog attendees' memories or that viewers would notice something that the police had not. The televised appeal resulted in several calls to police. A number of people gave information about an argument that had occurred at the party before Stephen's death. But whether this was determined to be relevant to the events of the following day remained unknown. Stephen Hilda was laid to rest on July 31, four weeks after his death. Hundreds of mourners attended, including skydivers, collegemates, military personnel and the detectives investigating his death.

Stephen's coffin was draped in the Union Jack and carried into the church by pallbearers, one of which was his teammate and friend, Adrian Blair. Stephen's girlfriend, Ruth Woodhouse, spoke at the service. She recounted Stephen's love of theatre and his many humorous antics. Her words drew laughter from the crowd. But there was a collective sense of unease within the 300 strong congregation. Was there a murderer among them? A month later, detectives were still sure the answer to what happened to Stephen lay among the skydiving community.

They suspected the overwhelming sense of loyalty within the close-knit group stopped witnesses from coming forward. With the investigation reaching a dead ant, it was decided fresh eyes were needed on the case. On August 27, senior officers from across the force were called in to review the case in its entirety, in the hope they would spot something that was missed. Detective Inspector Steve Clay, now in charge, said police would write once again to all 4,000 registered UK skydivers in the hope the murderer had shared their secret. He was absolutely positive the killer was at the week-long parachute competition when Stephen fell to his death. He said, quote,

Our line of inquiry is that the murderer could have told a fellow skydiver about the dastardly deed. The person who committed this dreadful crime probably has no criminal history and is likely to be a well-educated young man with a bright future. There's little doubt that he will have shared the burden of what he has done with a loved one. We are getting closer all the time. The answer lies among the skydiving community. When the UK mail-out didn't have the desired response, inquiries were taken worldwide. Police took out a full-page advertisement in Skydive, the magazine, the leading magazine for the sport, asking for assistance in tracing the murderer.

Skydivers from the United States responded to the inquiry, detailing two similar incidents from their homeland. The first incident occurred in 1996. The sabotaged parachute belonged to champion skydiver Kirk Werner. However, Werner happened to loan his parachute to his friend, Kerry Hopwood. Like Stephen Hilda, Hopwood had a double malfunction during his jump. Video taken by Hopwood's helmet camera showed him trying to deploy his parachute. His pilot shoot floated away due to a cut in the bridle.

Just as Stevens would have. He then deployed his emergency shoot, but it too malfunctioned. Hopwood's hands reached up. The camera caught his chilling shouts of, oh my god, I'm going to die before he hit the ground. But remarkably, Hopwood survived. Only one riser of the reserve parachute had been cut. It should have been enough to kill him, but the parachute managed to catch enough air to slow him down before impact. The fall left him with permanent brain damage, as well as pins and metal down his entire right side. The person whom it had been targeting Kirk Werner was never identified.

The following year, in 1997, Charlie Mullins, the son of a well-known and controversial skydiving identity, opened his reserve pack to swap it with a new one. In doing so, he discovered his reserve risers had been cut. If he had used it, there was no way he would have survived. There were many people who were envious of Charlie, as his father owned a drop zone and an aircraft, meaning Charlie had been able to amass an astonishing 6,000 jumps by his young age of 25. He moved in many of the same circles as Kirk Werner. Like in Werner's case, the person who cut Mullins' reserve risers was never identified.

US police provided British authorities with the names of all those present at the time of these attempted murders. They also handed over the video footage of Kerry Hopwood's fall, giving real, shocking insight into what Stephen Hilda must have gone through. The US police hoped to break through in the Stephen Hilda case might lead to a similar advance in their investigations, which at seven years old had gone cold, but nothing came of it. The similarities in the cases seemed to be mere coincidence. On October 22, 2003, three and a half months after Stephen Hilda's death, police announced two arrests. They didn't release their names to the press, but they eventually

got out. The two people arrested were Stephen's black rain teammates, Adrian Blair and David Mason. News of their arrests ripped through the skydiving community. Some condemned the pair immediately, stating they suspected Adrian and David from the beginning and unsubstantiated rumors spread about a love triangle being the motive. Others recalled David's history of playing pranks on Stephen's parachuting gear. In one instance, David pulled out Stephen's pilot shoot, causing the pin to dislodge and the main parachute to tumble out in its bag. Skydivers had a mixed reaction to this prank. On one hand, somewhere angry anyone would mess around with another person's gear knowing the

risks. On the other hand, Stephen could not have put his parachute on without replacing the pin and pilot shoot first, so it was more of a playful annoyance than an attempt to harm him. David said his pranks were merely a joke, highlighting the hypocrisy of Stephen leaving his kid unsupervised in an unsafe area when he was always going on about safety regulations. After the initial anger about the arrests, skydivers adopted a wait-and-see attitude. One friend said, quote, These two are good friends and I've jumped with them many times, as someone who knows them, unwilling to give them the benefit of the doubt for the moment. There was also the fact that the team had pulled off the skydive of their lives that day.

It was an incredible feat. If either Adrian or David or both were focused on killing Stephen, could they have also performed an intricate jump to such a sensational level? The two men were held overnight. The next day, police applied to the court for an extension to hold the pair for an extra 24 hours. The request was granted. However, after 48 hours, both men were released on bail without charge. The law in the UK allowed suspects to be released on conditional police bail. In cases such as Stephen Hilda's, where the evidence was very marginal and police weren't sure if it would get a conviction, they passed the file to lawyers who act for the Crown Prosecution Service. The lawyers review the evidence and decide if it's sufficient

to bring charges against the accused. Despite there being no charges laid, Adrian and David found themselves under a cloud of suspicion. Their home drop zone, Netheraven, told them not to bother coming back. Three weeks later, on November 17th, police announced another arrest in relation to the murder of Stephen Hilda. An unidentified 24-year-old man from Leeds was taken into custody. The arrest came two weeks after police interviewed members of Leeds University Skydiving Club. They regularly used tibbled stow airfield and were present during the competition when Stephen was killed. A university newspaper didn't publish the

arrested man's name, but did reveal he was studying at Leeds. After hours of questioning, this man too was released on bail without charge. His identity, as well as his connection to Stephen or the reason he was a suspect, was never released to the public. On December 5th, 2003, Stephen Hilda's parents made another impassioned plea, determined to keep his case in the media. One police officer told the press they had found out Stephen Hilda had one or two disagreements with fellow skydivers in the week before his death. Yet, they also revealed they had discovered several witnesses lied to them over the course of their investigation. One witness had falsely suggested Stephen had been involved in a love triangle.

Stephen's teammates Adrian and David were officially released from bail, but homicide police refused to eliminate them as suspects. The third arrested man remained a mystery, but police stated a dossier on each man was prepared and forwarded to the Korean prosecution service. By the end of January 2004, homicide police had interviewed 2,500 people and still had no concrete motive for Stephen Hilda's murder. Detectives set up in a room at the British Parachute Association's annual general meeting on January 24 and 25, hoping somebody would come forward with fresh information. The AGM was a two-day affair that included demonstrations

of new equipment and talks from experts on different aspects of skydiving. Being in the middle of winter, it was attended by a large percentage of the UK skydiving population, providing them with their skydiving fix while there were no drop zones operating. Yet, no further information was gained from the event. With all avenues for murder explored, detectives returned to a theory that had been briefly raised then discarded at the beginning of the investigation, that Stephen Hilda had taken his own life. Police re-interviewed Stephen's family and friends, except this time, questions were focused on Stephen specifically, not on others who may have had issue with him.

They asked if Stephen gave any indication he was suicidal. Did he have problems in his life? How was he in the weeks, days and hours leading up to the jump? Stephen's mother had spoken to him at length the Friday before the competition. She recalled he was his same talkative self. He'd had a good time with his father at the Bon Jovi concert the Saturday before. His father said Stephen was an energetic, enthusiastic, fun-loving and confident young man planning for his future. Nobody noticed anything different in his demeanor before the jump. They were adamant Stephen would never take his own life.

However, it was known Stephen's skydiving obsession had caused him to neglect some other parts of his life, including study and his relationship. There were no reports of what happened on the case over the next six weeks, but it was clear police had not yet finished with Stephen Hilda's teammates. On March 10, 2004, detectives searched the rooms of both Adrian Blair and David Mason without warning. On David's personal computer, they found a draft obituary for Stephen written in a humorous style. David said it was for a skydiving magazine. Although police did not publicly reveal the contents of the obituary, they found it disturbing and inappropriate. David said it was being misconstrued by police and it was merely the type of dark humor typical

of Stephen and skydivers in general. The lawyer representing Adrian and David stated, quote, They were taken aback when the police turned up out of the blue. I don't know what the police were looking for. The boys had no involvement in Stephen's death. Whatever the police were looking for, it seems they didn't find it. Two weeks later, to their great relief, Adrian and David were notified that they were no longer suspects. They were cleared of any involvement in Stephen Hilda's death. However, the suspicion, uncertainty and relentless targeting took its toll. Adrian quit his degree at the Royal Military College and moved to Canada. With all suspects officially cleared and no others on the

horizon, police doubled down on the suicide theory. Speculation why Stephen would stage such an elaborate suicide was varied, the question being why if Stephen had decided he was going to die that day? Did he simply not deploy his parachute at all and just fall? Some suspected his conversion to Roman Catholicism a few years earlier played a part. The church regard suicide as a sin, so perhaps he hid the act behind the illusion of murder. Others speculated that it was to ensure his parents could cash in life insurance. Others wondered if he sabotaged his own gear to ensure he couldn't back out of his plan. Tests found Stephen's sweat around the frayed edges of material that was slashed on one of his parachutes. Assuming this referred to the

main bridle that had been cut, this discovery was meaningless. It would have been far more surprising to discover that Stephen's DNA was not on there. A sweat would be expected to transfer onto the main bridle every time the parachute was packed. Further tests found that minute fibres from the cut webbing were found on Stephen's clothing beneath his jumpsuit. This was more interesting but still inconclusive. He may have done his gear check before putting on his jumpsuit and in doing so any fibres that were on the outside of the rig could have transferred then. The smoking gun was a pair of scissors found in the locked trunk of Stephen's car. They were determined to be the tool used to cut the risers of his parachute. The risers fibres were found on

the blades and only Stephen's DNA was found on the scissors. During the initial investigation, the scissors were given a low priority due to a monumental misunderstanding between police and a British parachuting association expert, John Hitchin. When Hitchin was unable to cut through the risers with the scissors he was supplied by police, he requested a hook knife. Police understood this as meaning that scissors in general were unable to cut through the tough material. However, John Hitchin later clarified, only the scissors supplied to him at that moment were unable to cut through as they were loose and didn't work properly. But another pair of working scissors would have been able to cut through just fine. The pair found in the trunk of Stephen's car

were ordinary kitchen scissors in good working order. They could cut through the material. The scissors were in the locked trunk of Stephen's car, but the keys were in the ignition, meaning anyone could have easily grabbed the keys and accessed the trunk. All skydivers own gloves and many wear them even when the weather is warm. Even on the hottest day, it's very cold at 13,000 feet. They also guard against cuts and scrapes from bad landings. Seeing someone wearing gloves would not be at all out of place, even on a hot day. Investigators probed further into Stephen's personal life. They heard about the time he told friends that if he was ever going to take his own life, it would be by skydiving. There were also reports he was not enjoying his time at the

Royal Military College of Science. He admitted he was in a course he didn't like, and he was also under the impression he failed his examinations, although the college said this belief was mistaken. Stephen had racked up 17,000 pounds in debt and maxed out his credit cards, much of it on skydiving. He bought himself an expensive state-of-the-art parachute, and then there are the jumps themselves. You could spend a hundred pounds on a slow day, and it was easy to spend a lot more, especially when training for competition. His debts were bad enough that he had bounced a check in the mess hall, which got him into strife with his military superiors. Several of Stephen's friends knew of his debts, and they stated he was not concerned by them. According to them, Stephen

thought his debts would sort themselves out, and he didn't dwell on them at all. There was also Stephen's unexplained 11-mile drive to a gas station on the Tuesday before his death. He claimed to have gone there to purchase snacks, yet there were closer gas stations to the drops only could have gone to. The one he visited was out of the way. He would have to deliberately seek it out. He didn't put any gas in his car either, as his tank was nearly empty when investigators looked at it later. This led to speculation Stephen had gone to the gas station to purchase trucks, though there's no proof of this. Furthermore, the truth of Stephen's relationship with Ruth Woodhouse was that it was strained. They were at the point of splitting up. Ruth

explained their relationship was a casual uni-student affair that grew from a mutual love of drama. Theatre rehearsals meant they saw each other twice a week, but they didn't have the time for the relationship to develop more deeply. Ruth said that neither of them were clingy people, and there had been no distress from either side. Both were happy with what they had, and the decision to split was mutual. One friend posted on SkydivingForumdropzone.com, quote, Steve was the kind of person who worried about something only when it was absolutely staring him in the face. His attitude was always, it'll be okay, no matter how unrealistic that was.

Splitting up with his girlfriend, being in debt and having possibly failed exams, wouldn't worry him until the point where he'd been declared bankrupt, been chucked out of uni, and seen his girlfriend with a new bloke. Steven's closest friend, non-Skydiver Jason Saunders, spoke to the independent newspaper. Jason claimed Steven was full of plans for the future in the last conversation they'd had, just before Steven left for the competition. As for Steven's previous remark about wanting to die by Skydiving, those who knew him perceived this comment as a reflection of how passionate he was about the sport.

Nearly 10 months after that fateful day at Hibaldstowe Airfield, Detective Superintendent Colin Andrews announced that they were no longer treating Steven Hilda's death as murder. Police marked the case as an unexplained death. The police may have been satisfied with their findings, but nobody else was. None of Steven's family, friends, his girlfriend, nor fellow Skydivers, whether they knew him or not, fought the story he committed suicide or staged his own murder. One Skydiver summed it up on dropzone.com, quote, Come on people, we all know that no Skydiver would ever take their own life in this bizarre way.

This is total crap. The cops are stumped, so they're covering their arse. In March 2005, an inquest was held into the death of Steven. Coroner Stuart Atkinson ruled out murder as the cause of death, as no evidence had been found proving the Skydiver's equipment had been sabotaged by another party. Atkinson added that he was unable to record a verdict of suicide, because he could not be sure the Skydiver intended to take his own life. It was thus ruled an open finding. Detective Superintendent Colin Andrews told the BBC he was as comfortable as he could be

that Steven wasn't murdered. He said he was not complacent, but confident, and that the investigating team had left no stone unturned in the pursuit of the truth. Many in the Skydiving community of the United Kingdom were left uneasy. One jumper said, quote, The worst bit is, if it was murder, the person may still be among us. That freaks me out a bit, considering the size of the active Skydiving community. There's only 19 drop zones in England. That means you've got a one in 19 chance of jumping at the same drop zone as whoever did this, and no one yet knows who did this or why.

Nevertheless, as the news stories petered out, memories faded, and Skydivers went back to their old ways. Visit any drop zone and you will see unattended parachutes all the time. Chief Instructor Paul Hollows, who found Steven's body in the cornfield after his fatal jump, stated, Skydivers trust each other. We have to. But as in any community, that trust can be broken. In November 2006, a 26-year-old Belgian woman, Elle's Clodermans, was convicted of murdering her fellow Skydiver and love rival. Clodermans sabotaged her rival's parachute in exactly the same manner as Steven Hilda's had been. She was jailed for 30 years.

In May 2015, at Netheraven, Steven Hilda's home drop zone, Army Sergeant Emile Cilius was arrested for attempted murder after sabotaging his wife's parachute. She suffered multiple serious injuries, including broken bones, but survived the ordeal. Cilius was found guilty in May 2018 of trying to kill his wife to pocket life insurance and start a new life with his secret lover. However, mystery continues to surround the death of Steven Hilda. His parents remain hopeful that somebody somewhere knows what happened and may still come forward to give them closure. In the meantime, all Skydivers can do when they remember Steven Hilda is recite their well-worn refrain, Blue Skies, Black Death.