As the back gardens of the houses along the towpath are separated from it only by wooden fences, the boys had easy access to properties where the wooden fences were in disrepair. Once they exhausted the possibilities presented by throwing things at and into the shopping trolley, they wandered along the towpath and found mischief where they were able: They removed fresh washing from a line behind one house and dumped this in the canal; at another they found a lawn mower (“But it were rusty,” Michael explains) and did the same with it.

Perhaps the perambulator gave them the ultimate idea. They found this object sitting next to the back door of yet another of the houses. Unlike the lawn mower, the perambulator was not only new, but it also had a metallic blue helium balloon attached to it. On this balloon was printed “It’s a Boy!” and the boys knew the words referred to a brand-new baby.

The perambulator was more difficult to get their hands on because the fence here was not in bad condition. Thus it is suggestive of a sort of escalation of intent that two of the boys (Ian and Reggie, according to Michael; Ian and Michael, according to Reggie; Reggie and Michael, according to Ian) climbed over the fence, stole the perambulator, and hoisted it over and onto the towpath. There the boys pushed each other for perhaps one hundred yards before tiring of this game and shoving the perambulator into the canal.

Michael Spargo’s interview indicates that, at this point, Ian Barker said, “Too bad it weren’t a baby inside. That’d make a lovely splash, eh?” Ian Barker denies this, and when questioned, Reggie Arnold becomes hysterical, shrieking, “There weren’t no baby, ever! Mum, there weren’t no baby!”

According to Michael, Ian went on to talk about “how wicked it’d be to get a baby from somewheres.” They could, he suggested, take it to “that bridge over West Town Road and we could drop it on its head and see it splat. Blood and brains’d come out. That’s what he said,” Michael reports. Michael goes on to insist that he spoke hotly against this idea, as if he knows where his interview with the police is heading when they get to this topic. Ultimately the boys grew tired of playing in the environs of the canal, Michael reports. Ian Barker, he tells the police, was the one to suggest they “clear out of here” and go to the Barriers.

It should be noted that not one of the boys denies being in the Barriers that day, although all of them repeatedly change their stories when it comes to what they did when they got there.

West Town Road Arcade has been known as the Barriers for such a length of time that most people have no idea that the shopping arcade actually has another name. Early in its commercial lifetime, it developed this appellation because it sprawls neatly between the bleak world of the Gallows and an orderly grid of semidetached and detached houses occupied by middle-class working families. These buildings comprise the Windsor, Mountbatten, and Lyon Housing Estates.

While there are four distinct entrances to the Barriers, the two most commonly used are those giving access to residents of the Gallows and to residents of the Windsor Estate. The shops at these entrances are rather depressingly indicative of the expected clientele. For example, at the Gallows entrance, one finds a William Hill betting lounge, two off-licences, a tobacconist, an Items-for-a-Pound shop, and several take-away food enterprises featuring fish and chips, jacket potatoes, and pizza. At the Windsor Estate entrance, on the other hand, one can shop in Marks & Spencer, Boots, Russell & Bromley, Accessorize, Ryman’s, and independent shops offering lingerie, chocolates, tea, and clothing. While it’s true that nothing stops someone from entering at the Gallows and traversing the arcade to shop where she pleases, the implication is clear: If you are poor, on benefits, or working class, you’re likely to be interested in spending your money on cholesterol-laden food, tobacco, alcohol, or gambling.

All three of the boys agree that when they entered the Barriers, they went into the video arcade at the centre of the place. They had no money, but this did not stop them from “driving” the Jeep in the Let’s Go Jungle video game, or “piloting” the Ocean Hunter on a search for sharks. It’s an interesting fact that the participatory video games allowed for only two players at one time. Although, as previously noted, they had no money, when they pretended to play it was Michael and Reggie who manned the controls, leaving Ian the odd man out. He claims he was not bothered by this exclusion, and all the boys declare themselves unbothered by the fact that they had no money to spend in the video arcade, but one cannot help speculating if the day would have turned out differently had the boys been able to sublimate pathological tendencies through engaging in some of the bellicose activities provided by the video games they encountered but were not able to use. (I don’t mean to imply here that video games can or should take the place of parenting, but as an outlet for young boys with limited resources and even less insight into their individual dysfunction, they might have been helpful.)

Unfortunately, their time in the video arcade came to a precipitate end when a security guard noticed them and shooed them on their way. It was still school hours (the CCTV film has it at half-past ten), and he told them he would phone the police, the schools, or the truant officer if he saw them again on the premises. His interview with the police has him claiming that he “never saw the little yobs again,” but this seems more like an effort to relieve himself of guilt and responsibility than the truth. The boys did nothing to hide from him once they left the video arcade, and had he only made good on his threat, the boys would never have encountered little John Dresser.

John Dresser-or Johnny, as he was termed by the tabloid press-was twenty-nine months old. He was the only child of Alan and Donna Dresser, and on a working day he was normally minded by his fifty-eight-year-old grandmother. He walked perfectly well, but like many toddler boys, he was slow to develop language. His vocabulary at twenty-nine months consisted of Mummy, Da, and Lolly (this last referring to the family dog). He could not say his name.

On this particular day, his grandmother had gone to Liverpool for an appointment with a specialist to discuss her failing vision. As she could not drive herself, her husband took her. This placed Alan and Donna Dresser in the position of having no child care, and when this occurred (as it did occasionally), it was their habit to take turns minding John since neither of them found it easy to take time off from work to see to him. (Donna Dresser was at this time a secondary school chemistry teacher and her husband a solicitor specialising in property sales.) By all accounts, they were excellent parents, and John had been a much-anticipated addition to their lives. Donna Dresser had not found it easy to become pregnant in the first place and had taken great care during her pregnancy to ensure the birth of a healthy baby. While she came under scrutiny and criticism for being a working mother who allowed her husband to care for their child on this particular day, it should not be assumed that she was anything other than a devoted mother to John.

Alan Dresser took the toddler to the Barriers at midday. He used the little boy’s push chair, and he walked the half mile from their home to get there. The Dressers lived on the Mountbatten Housing Estate, the most upmarket of the three neighbourhoods that touched on the Barriers and the one farthest from that shopping arcade. Prior to John’s birth, his parents had purchased a detached three-bedroom home there, and on the day of John’s disappearance they were still in the process of renovating one of the two bathrooms. In his statement to the police, Alan Dresser explains that he went to the Barriers at his wife’s request to fetch paint samples from Stanley Wallingford’s, an independent DIY shop not far from the Gallows end of the shopping arcade. He also goes on to say that he wanted a “bit of air for me and the boy,” a reasonable desire considering the thirteen days of bad weather that had preceded this outing.