All you Midsomer Murders fans, pay attention: your favorite stories of mayhem, murder, incest, bigamy, polygamy, kidnapping, theft, lying, cheating, infidelity, corruption, back-stabbing, double-dealing, and bestiality . . . nope, haven’t actually seen that last one . . . but all the others turn out not to be so implausible after all. Just ask the 500 residents of the idyllic little village of Shiptonthorpe in East Yorkshire.

Or should I say, “formerly idyllic”? It seems that someone — or perhaps a number of someones — has (or have) been sending “vulgar” mail, terrorizing the recipients and turning Shiptonthorpe into a “village of poison,” according to residents. [Sarah-May Buccieri, BBC News, September 21, 2024.]

It has been going on for the past two years, and although Humberside Police have “carried out inquiries into some of the incidents,” [id.], the culprit — let’s assume it’s just one person — has yet to be identified. The letters — described as “personal, obscene and targeted” — just keep on coming.

One such recipient — identified only as Sophie, though not her real name — received a letter “ . . . accusing me of what you could call being a loose woman. It said the only way I would ever get anywhere within politics would be if I was to perform unspeakable things to men.” The letter further suggested she should be “turned out on the Beverley Westwood pasture with the rest of the cows.” [Id.]

Another resident, identified as Jason, said he had not received any letters, but that “A cloud of vitriol has fallen over Shiptonthorpe. It is a wonderful village with wonderful people, but someone has brought poison to this village.” [Id.]

And yet another letter — actually seen by the BBC — told the recipient, “I hope cancer finds you.” [Id.]

Now, that’s pretty awful.

On an episode of Midsomer Murders, this hate campaign would long since have resulted in, not one, but a series of grisly murders. Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby (either one) and his Detective Sergeant du jour would ultimately trace the motive back to a generations-old affair between someone’s grandmother and someone else’s estate manager, or an incestuous relationship resulting in a young lesbian’s grandfather also being her father (an actual plot).

Happily, that has not happened in Shiptonthorpe, which is a very good thing, not least because there is no real-life DCI Barnaby to solve the case.

However, I am reminded of an episode of an old American series, Murder, She Wrote, starring British actress Angela Lansbury as J.B. Fletcher, an American mystery novelist whose mere presence anywhere in the world seems to precipitate someone’s mysterious death. She then helps the police — themselves frequently clueless — solve the crimes. And in the particular segment I mentioned, which took place in her little (fictitious) home town of Cabot Cove, Maine, people began receiving nasty letters that set neighbor against neighbor. Jessica (J.B.), of course, figured it out, and everyone hugged it out and lived happily ever after. Well, except the murder victims.

Perhaps what Shiptonthorpe needs is its own J.B. Fletcher. In any event, I wish them luck in unmasking the culprit. It’s probably the illegitimate child of the wealthy industrialist who had an affair with the pub owner’s daughter back in the 1940s . . .

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/22/24