That morning, she returned to 1 Ruxley Ridge, just around the corner, her former marital home. Though she had told few people, Sally, 56, and her husband Richard, 61, were planning to reconcile. They were about to begin clearing the family house so they could put it on the market. But first Richard wanted bacon and eggs for breakfast, so Sally went out to buy some. When she returned, she felt suspicious, as if Richard had got rid of her for a reason.
'I woke up to discover my husband was trying to kill me' - Kidspot
Now she asked Richard to explain the call. Sally served breakfast and, as Richard ate, she took a hammer and hit him more than 20 times. In case he was still breathing, she stuffed a tea towel into his mouth, before wrapping him in some old curtains. Then she washed the dishes and drove back to the home she shared with their son, David. The next morning, after giving David, then 23, a lift to work, Sally drove to Beachy Head. She parked, called her cousin to confess, then walked to the cliffs.
It took a suicide prevention team hours to talk her back from the edge. Ten months later, Sally stood in the dock of Guildford crown court, looking nothing like the well-coiffed woman she had once been. Her hair was a mess. She had lost a front tooth. Her fingers were nicotine yellow. In setting out the murder charge, the prosecution painted a picture of a possessive — or possessed — wife.
Wilce and Richard had arranged to go out on her boat the next day, but Richard called to cancel because of the bad weather; she had called him right back to suggest Sunday lunch instead. Sally, the court heard, was obsessive. When asked why she had killed him, her explanation was: At the end of a seven-day trial, she was found guilty of murder.
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Now, the case is making headlines again — and events have been cast in a different light. A date for the appeal is expected later this autumn. She is also co-founder of Justice for Women , which helped secure the release of Sara Thornton , Emma Humphreys and other women who killed their violent and abusive husbands. She was not subject to sustained, persistent physical violence. There are no broken bones or hospital visits for Wistrich to draw on. Instead, she has numerous witness statements taken in , but not used in court; emails from Richard to Sally; and months of prison visits and video calls with Sally herself.
Is it enough to explain a murderous hammer attack? In fact, certain phrases come up repeatedly from those who know Sally.
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Sally Jenney met Richard Challen when she was David now lives in London and works for a film distribution company, and is campaigning for his mother. It also means looking at his family life in the most ugly light imaginable, something he struggles with still his brother is supportive, but does not campaign publicly. Now I can look at the age gap for what it meant.
Mum never had a chance to experience any other relationship or form any adult identity of her own. My dad, and the way he behaved, was all she knew. Sally came from a sheltered, old-fashioned family. Her father died when she was six and she was raised by her mother in Surrey, attending school up to O-levels. Her brothers had high-flying careers — one was the auditor general of Hong Kong, another a company director — but for Sally the expectation was secretarial work, husband, children.
Richard Challen lived locally. He was funny, charismatic, making good money dealing cars. His father had been the motoring correspondent for the News of the World and Richard was a petrolhead, passionate about fast cars and Formula One. His oldest schoolfriend, Dellon Blackmore, introduced them when Sally was in her teens. Richard took advantage of that. There were always other women. Two events stand out in that early period. One is that Sally became pregnant at 17 and was taken to Harley Street by her brothers for a late-term abortion.
Afterwards, they approached Richard, only to be told: Sally said she had challenged Richard about seeing another woman, and he had dragged her down the stairs and thrown her out of the front door. She claims that, for the rest of her life, she hated to confront him in case he did it again. And yet she married him. Blackmore was best man at the wedding, which he remembers as a muted affair. Richard was always very tight — everyone joked about it.
But Sally loved him. She was deeply attached. Richard worked a six-day week and got his own car dealership in Richmond, Surrey. They had two sons and the family settled in 1 Ruxley Ridge. We had good holidays — Disneyland, Florida; Marbella. For my first 10 years, we seemed normal. It started with a story about my best friend, who totally stole my favorite pencil sharpener.
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And then came a story about the mysterious Nathan. Apparently, he had pushed my thumb down during a game of Seven Up and that was the first time I had realized, and I quote, how velvety misspelled his hands were, how hot his blonde also misspelled hair was and how strikingly somehow spelled correctly blue his eyes were. But that was all a lie. That was the story of how I had met my husband, Mark. And his eyes were brown. One about going trick-or-treating as Charmander and Pikachu. One about him killing my Tamagotchi.
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And then there was a mention of a kid named Mark. According to my scribbles, this Mark kid had beaten the crap out of Nathan, because he was jealous of him. I had no memory of this. For a minute, I wondered if I made it up. But once I reached the end of the diary, I realized there was a thick envelope paper-clipped to the back. It was sealed with a postage stamp from Rhode Island. When I flipped it over, I saw my name written in my own, adult handwriting. I peeled the envelope open, and there was a letter inside, along with several pictures.
Pictures of, what I could only assume, were Nathan. Lifting me over his shoulder. Carrying me, bridal style, into a beach house. Another showed the two of us smiling on our goddamn wedding day.
'I miss him so much': why did a devoted wife kill the man she loved?
But then there was the letter. It was typed, but I could tell I was the one who had written it. Could tell by the tone and grammar and slang. I only had a few seconds to process the words before I heard knocking. Heard the front door slide open and footsteps march toward me. What if you could live a life that would make YOU jealous?