Jimmy Savile: A British Horror Story

Whether you believe in the monster or not,

it would be a strong-willed person who could pass by Loch Ness

without keeping an eye out for something extraordinary.

I can't see nothing.

Where are you, you big hairy monster? Come and have a look at Father Jim.

-What have you really seen so far, Jim? -Oh, oh, it's a m-- It's a mon--

Oh, it's Phil. Hello.

-Hi. -Naughty Nessie is not coming out today.

You naughty Nessie!

Have you seriously seen anything of interest out there?

Yes, she was about 17,

and she had long legs and long, blonde hair.

But she wasn't a monster.

For years, scientists have had theories

that there is some sort of monster here.

There's not one monster but several monsters.

But they ain't gonna come out today.

'Cause another thing monsters do, they don't like opposition.

My investigation into Jimmy Savile began by chance.

My aunt ran Duncroft, a youth detention center.

Savile arrives when I'm probably about 16.

He kept turning up.

I thought it was strange.

In the '90s, I became a journalist.

At that point, I was working at the BBC.

Radio news.

I remember talking with other people, celebrity gossip.

Sometimes you heard "Savile,"

"underage girls."

I would say, "Where do you know that from?"

And you'd try and see whether that led anywhere.

But when I tried to track them down, I could never find a witness or a victim.

The trail went blank when you tried to follow it.

-Tomato juice or whatever, is it? -Good idea, yes.

Good morning, all.

Back then, I thought it was simple.

We just had to get the evidence to catch him.

I didn't realize the whole world around him had to change

before the truth could come out.

Each Monday at ten,

a siren sounds over 15 miles of Berkshire,

testing the alarm in case of an escape from Broadmoor.

It opened in 1863 as an asylum for criminal lunatics.

Today's siren call is for change.

For the past seven months,

a task force has been setting up a stronger therapeutic regime.

Its chairman is Jimmy Savile.

So there's many people say, "How come a showbiz punter

is doing a job like this at the world's number one mental hospital?"

Well, I was very surprised when he was actually--

Virtually had the run of the place, though he was obviously not qualified

in any psychiatric way.

A sort of honorary

president of the place.

Some years ago, in my copious fan mail,

I got a notice telling me that I was an honorary member

of Nutters Incorporated.

It's now non-existent, but it was a club then,

run by some of the patients

at the world-famous Broadmoor Hospital.

And this letter said,

"Dear Jim, you are one of us, we have sussed that."

"We would like you to be an honorary member."

So I turned into a special friend, and I've been there for 17 years now.

Miles from the nearest town.

Murderers, serial killers,

paranoid schizophrenia, where they'd have voices in their head.

These were people considered--

Their mental condition was such that they shouldn't be in prison,

they should be in a hospital.

At the time, I was an investigative reporter for The Sunday Times.

I was rung up and told about the story of these two identical twins,

who had never spoken to their parents, teachers,

no other school children.

They seemed to take a vow of silence.

But it became more and more sinister.

They went on a six-week spree

of arson.

They set fire to three buildings, which landed them in Broadmoor.

The twins wanted me to be their voice.

I would go six, seven, eight times a year to visit them.

Jimmy Savile, I met only once.

I'm sitting there,

June and Jennifer on either side, we're having our tea,

and suddenly this figure jumps onto the table,

one of the other tables, and then onto ours,

with this sort of silky shell suit in bright colors,

with sparkly trainers, gold rings.

He then looks at the girls, June and Jennifer,

and he looks at them, and there's something very strange.

And he says, "I'll have you first."

"I'll have you second."

- Morning, Jim. - Morning, team.

-All right, Jim? -How are you? All right?

Governing Broadmoor's a responsible position.

Without any formal qualifications,

how well suited are you for this position?

I have got very formal qualifications.

I've been alive for a long time. I've learned a lot of things for a long time.

I know how things are done, and I've done things for a long time…

I got in touch with the Department of Health.

I wrote to the minister, Edwina Currie.

I said, "I'm very worried about Jimmy Savile,

and how much he could disturb

some of these extremely disturbed, vulnerable people."

I remember I didn't really get anywhere.

He was too important.

It had been decided. He was going to be the savior.

This great liberator of this frightening institution.

We are a great listening hospital.

We listen to people.

I listen to nurses. I listen to doc--

I listen to porters, to drivers. I listen to everybody.

He was given his own suite of apartments

and his own key.

Access at any time.

They trusted him.

He'd raised over £40 million for Stoke Mandeville.

Edwina Currie was absolutely bedazzled by him.

Everyone was bedazzled by him.

He was like a conjurer.

He mesmerized people.

Jimmy Savile had inordinate power.

Look at that. That is supposed to be me, that.

What did I ever do to you that you would draw that picture of me?

- Everything. -

Super times. Super times for all. No danger about--

If you don't work in a hospital, you're really missing something.

In fact, you're missing everything.

You spend a lot of time in hospitals.

- They are my favorite places. - And Leeds.

General Infirmary, Leeds,

and a favorite of mine, Broadmoor Hospital.

But you're dealing, of course,

mixing with some of the most dangerous and violent criminals in--

No, they're not criminals.

No, you've got to decide between the mad and the bad,

which is a simplification in terms, but if you--

They're criminals in the sense that they've broken the law.

Well, yes, but there are people who break the law knowingly

'cause they're in full possession of their faculties,

and people who create something, which is a breaking of the law,

when they were possessed by something or somebody,

some evil spirit or whatever.

It sounds a bit dramatic, but that's an easy way of describing it.

So they're not criminals in that sense. They are patients that need treatment.

Over the years, I have treated many people

who have carried out offenses that are very disturbing.

In my experience of assessing and treating

many, many such individuals over the last 25 years,

they themselves feel

the only way for them to benefit from treatment

is to also be punished.

And their attitude tends to be, "Thank goodness I was caught

because I couldn't stop myself."

The General Infirmary at Leeds has been my second home for over two decades.

-I am a voluntary helper. - Yeah.

-Sometimes I help the lads. -Yeah.

And sometimes, when nobody's looking, I help the lasses.

And we just dodge around, and I become very useful

if they have a patient who would need my specialty.

There's 5,000 quid I got from running a marathon…

Not getting caught is a disaster.

Tonight sees the 1,000th edition of Top of the Pops.

Ladies and gentlemen, how are you?

We're surrounded by loveliness. Tell 'em what's happening…

What happens to the person who commits crime

over a hugely long period of time?

25 years of Top of the Pops!

Jim'll Fix It starts up again on Saturdays.

I would say that they're actually

triumphant at getting away with it.

That there's something terribly exciting

about being able to pull the wool over people's eyes,

to be able to deceive people.

If you go to South Kirkby, some of the old miners, when you say,

"Jimmy Savile's done well, hasn't he?" He'll look around, and he'll say,

-"He's not what you think, you know." -

"The forces of darkness are at work there."

It fuels the sense of triumphalism,

the omnipotence.

What has prompted you to devote so much time to charity?

What should I do? Sit and look at the wall?

Just 'cause I like it.

I don't really have to justify why I like it.

All I can say is that

I've been at Stoke and Broadmoor Hospital, Leeds Infirmary for about 28 years,

purely as a voluntary worker.

I do it 'cause I love it unashamedly.

And 28 minutes is a gimmick, but 28 years…

You've gotta like it to stick it for 28 years.

Jimmy Savile was a huge figure,

but he was also an enigma.

I had been with The Economist for ten years.

I made documentaries for the BBC.

I was editor of The Sunday Times of London for 11 years.

He'd never been interviewed by somebody like me.

I suspected there was something amiss.

Being a DJ, of course, didn't just bring you fame,

it brought you girls. Lots of girls.