Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Brighton Tragedy Russell Bishop’s Crimes and the Long Road to Justice PART4 #62

Episode Date: November 23, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truecrime #darkjustice #finallyjustice #tragiccases #realhorrorstories  “The Brighton Tragedy: Russell Bishop’s Crimes and the Long Road to Justice PART 4” concludes the decades-long fight for accountability. After years of pain, new forensic evidence and relentless persistence from the victims’ families finally exposed Bishop for what he was. This part tells how justice—though delayed—was ultimately served, closing one of the UK’s darkest true crime chapters, and honoring the memory of the lives lost.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, realhorror, brightontragedy, russellbishop, darkjustice, finallyjustice, tragiccases, basedontrueevents, hauntingtruth, chillingclosure, eeriehistory, justiceatlast, disturbingtruth, longroadtojustice

Here we go. The Long Road to Justice, the final case against Russell Bishop. When the case of Nicky Fellows and Karen Hadaway was officially closed in 1990, people in Brighton felt crushed. Two innocent little girls had been murdered, and the man most local suspected, Russell Bishop, had walked free. He had smiled outside the courthouse, spun himself into a victim for the tabloids, and even marched in Justice rallies as though. he hadn't been at the center of the entire storm. The families of Nikki and Karen were left with heartbreak and fury, the community carried the weight of suspicion, and Bishop strutted around like nothing had happened.

But fate wasn't finished with him. Because just two days after the case was closed, another little girl would become his target. The attack on Rachel It was February 4, 1990. A Chil winter day in Whitehawk, a suburb of Brighton. Whitehawk wasn't glamorous, it was the kind of place where people knew their neighbors, where kids played in the streets, and nothing much ever happened. It was safe enough that seven-year-old Rachel what could spend her Sunday afternoon doing what she loved most, skating up and down her street with her bright roller skates.

Her dad, Peter, was outside too, working in the front garden. He kept one eye on his plants and one eye on Rachel, who kept swooping past, laughing and calling out to him. Cars weren't around, the street was quiet, and everything looked as ordinary as any other afternoon. At some point, Rachel rolled over and asked her dad for a little money. She wanted to buy a chocolate bar from the corner shop just two streets away. Peter glanced at his watch, 4 p.m. He pulled a couple of coins from his pocket, placed them in her hand, and told her, Be careful, sweetheart. Don't be too long.

With a big grin, Rachel skated down the road, turning toward the shop. Minutes passed. 10. 15. 20. An hour. Her parents told themselves not to panic. Maybe she'd run into a friend. Maybe she'd stop to chat. But by the time an hour had gone by, Peter's gut told him something was wrong.

He walked down to the shop to ask if she'd been in. The shopkeeper shook their head. No Rachel. No little girl in roller skates. Nobody had seen her on the way. That's when the alarm bells started screaming. The horrific discovery. Several hours later, the nightmare broke.

Two police officers knocked on the family's door with devastating news, Rachel had been found, alive, but in critical condition. Her parents raced to the hospital. Before they could see her, officers warned them, stay calm. Don't cry, don't scream, don't rush to hug her. They needed her to talk, to explain what had happened, to identify who had done this. If she got too emotional, she might shut down. Behind a glass window, Peter and his wife saw their daughter. Bruised, filthy, shaking. Covered in mud, her hair tangled, and bleeding from intimate injuries no child should ever endure.

The truth of her ordeal came out slowly, painfully. Rachel explained that on her way to the shop, she had stopped to talk to a man working on his car. He was blonde, with a mustache, and his car was. was red. Because her father was a mechanic, she felt comfortable. Mechanics were safe. They were dad-like. She asked him about his car. She asked him for directions to the sweet shop. He didn't answer. Instead, he slammed the hood down, grabbed her, and forced her into his trunk. Inside the dark space with her skates still strapped on, Rachel panicked. She noticed two two things beside her, a can of W.D. 40 and a hammer. Desperate, she took off her skates

and began smashing the trunk lid with all her might, screaming for help. The car eventually stopped. They were in a wooded area. The man opened the trunk, dragged her out, and shoved her into the back seat. There, he forced her to undress. He abused her. He strangled her until she blacked out. When she came to, she was naked, injured, and abandoned in the woods. Staggering, freezing, barely able to stand, she wandered until, by some miracle, a couple found her walking alone on Devil's Dyke Road, seven miles from home. They wrapped her in a blanket, took her to safety, and called the police. Rachel had survived. The identification Three days later, the police prepared one of the most important moments of Rachel's young life, the lineup.

She sat in a room with a one-way mirror. On the other side, ten men sat in a row, each with a number card in front of them. Rachel looked carefully. Then she lifted her finger and pointed, number nine. Number nine was Russell Bishop. The evidence backed her up. In fact that Investigators searched his red car and found everything Rachel had described. The hammer The WD. 40 can. Dents inside the trunk lid where she had smashed it with her skates. And most damning of all, Rachel's blood on the back seat.

Justice, finally. On December 13, 1990, Russell Bishop was convicted of kidnapping, sexual. assault and attempted murder. He was sentenced to life in prison, with a minimum of 14 years to serve. For the families of Nikki and Karen, the verdict was bittersweet. Relief that Bishop was locked up, yes, but also anger. Because for them, it was clear, this man hadn't just attacked Rachel. He had killed their daughters, too. The system had failed them once, and now it looked like Bishop was only behind bars because he'd gone after another child. The law changes.

For years, the case of Nikki and Karen sat in limbo. Bishop was in prison, but not for their murders. The families kept pushing, kept campaigning, kept their daughter's names alive. Then, in 2005, the game changed. Britain modified its double jeopardy laws. the rule that once you were acquitted, you could never be tried again for the same crime. Under the new system, if compelling new evidence appeared, a person could face trial again. That was the opening the families had been waiting for.

But time was running out. Bishop was nearing eligibility for parole. If he got out, who knew what would happen? Police had to move fast. Revisiting the evidence. In 2013, investigators dusted off the old files, reopening every piece of evidence. Their eyes went straight back to the infamous blue sweatshirt. Back in the 80s, it had been a shaky piece of proof.

But now, with modern DNA technology, maybe it could finally speak. And it did. Tests revealed Bishop's DNA on the sweatshirt. But there was a catch, the chain of custody. Over decades, the evidence had been handled, stored, moved. Defense lawyers could argue contamination. The sweatshirt might not stand in court. So detectives dug deeper.

They re-examined the girl's remains. And on Karen's arm, they found it, a sample of DNA that matched Russell Bishop. This time, it was solid. The rearrest. On May 10, 2016, Bishop was led out of his cell. He thought it was the day he'd finally taste freedom, that parole had arrived. Instead, he was taken into an interrogation room. Police told him straight, he was under arrest for the murders of Nicky Fellows and Karen

Hadaway. He repeated the same old script. He was innocent. He'd been acquitted before. He hadn't touched them. He'd been set up. But this time, the evidence told a different story. The 2018 trial October 16, 2018.

The retrial began. The blue sweatshirt was thrown out, but Karen's DNA sample remained. Bishop's defense argued that he had only touched the girls' necks to check for pulses. But then Officer John Morton testified. He told the court that Bishop himself had admitted, back in 1986, to checking their necks. That meant his story lined up a little too well. It sounded rehearsed. And there was more.

While in prison during his first trial, Bishop had received letters from members of the public. One was from an 11-year-old girl. Instead of shutting it down, Bishop wrote back with sexually suggestive comments. He couldn't even hide his tendencies behind bars. The picture was complete. On December 20, 2018, the verdict came, guilty. Bishop was convicted of murdering Nikki and Karen. His sentence, life in prison, minimum of 36 years.

This time, there would be no escape. Jennifer Johnson's turn. But the saga didn't end there. Remember Jennifer Johnson, Bishop's partner who had backtracked on her testimony about the blue sweatshirt? Years later, it came back to haunt her. In May 2021, she was convicted of perjury for lying under oath and sentenced to six years in prison. She had shielded him, helped him, and in doing so, played a role in delaying justice for two murdered girls. The final chapter.

On January 20, 2022, Russell Bishop died in prison at age 55. Cancer claimed him before old age could. Some people said it was too easy an end for a man like him. Others were just glad he'd never breathe free air again. For the families of Nikki, Karen, and Rachel, his death didn't erase the pain, but it closed the book on decades of torment. Justice had come, late, messy. and painful, but it had finally come.

Reflections So here's where we're left. Nikki and Karen's killer was finally convicted more than 30 years after their deaths. Rachel survived, but carried scars for life. Jennifer Johnson paid the price for her lies. And the man once seen as a harmless local clown turned out to be one of Brighton's darkest monsters.

Was justice done? Yes, eventually. But it took decades of persistence, changes in the law, and the bravery of survivors and families who never gave up. And that's the bitter truth. Sometimes justice isn't swift. Sometimes it crawls. But when it finally arrives, it matters.

The end.