Rigid and reddening Murrell all alone as modus operandi laid bare
Peter Murrell’s thoughts must have turned to what might have been as he sat in the dock of the High Court, Edinburgh
The narrative gave a tantalising glimpse of what might have been.
Just days after Peter Murrell took possession of Scotland’s most infamous motorhome, he purchased travel guides for “inspirational journeys” around Scotland, England, Wales and Ireland.
Was he sensing an end nearing? Was this his great escape? Rumbled too soon, had he planned to make a well-furnished run for it in his Niesmann+Bischoff home on wheels?
READ MORE:A barely audible 'guilty' marks the pinnacle of the Peter Murrell drama that has dogged the SNP
After all, the High Court in Edinburgh heard, he had purchased four upgrades for the vehicle, including a security system and a television.
Thelma without Louise. Clyde without Bonnie.
Certainly the SNP is at pains to emphasise Murrell was a lone operator in his leisurely, 12-year crime spree.
Returned to the dock of the High Court, Murrell was noticeably alone.
Last week, at his plea hearing, two groups of women occupied the public gallery for support. No such support was obvious on Tuesday.
He sat rigid in the dock as the detail of the crimes was read before Judge Lord Young. Brown sun spots dappling Murrell’s bald pate gave a gloomy contrast to his reddening face as the narrative painted a lurid picture of his decade on the take.
The corners of his mouth drooped as the prosecution detailed bogus invoices and self-approved expenses claims.
The week before, First Minister John Swinney had said Murrell managed to circumvent the SNP’s expenses system.
Listening to his modus operandi laid out before the court, it seemed more that there had been no system to circumvent.
Prosecutors said the former party chief executive had managed to dodge the SNP’s online expenses portal because he “couldn’t get logged in”.
Was there no high schooler in on work experience to help Murrell with his username and password?
Of course, Murrell was married to the boss. He would have had more leeway than most.
His boss’s precious home library was given an honorary mention. There is a compelling human story of a marriage here, alongside the political brouhaha.
Whatever one may think of Nicola Sturgeon, one cannot doubt her genuine love of reading and her attachment to that famous library. A pause for sympathy, then, for how grossly tainted that nook is now.
But back to the motorhome. It had but four miles on the clock - a decadent £31,250 per mile.
Listed as a party asset, it was remarkably bereft of SNP campaign literature and remarkably stuffed with goods bought with embezzled party funds. Ah hah. This camper van was a high-end storage unit.
John Swinney faced the indignity of answering questions from the media yet again.
Jenny Gilruth, the newly appointed Deputy First Minister, has become a familiar sight at these huddles as a moral support cum henchwoman stationed at Mr Swinney’s left shoulder.
Ms Gilruth looked as glum as we have seen her. Yet still not as glum as her boss.
Mr Swinney and Murrell were man and boy together.
The First Minister is undoubtedly hurt by the betrayal. He was livid too, answering one reporter’s question with a brusque “don’t put words in my mouth.”
Murrell committed his crimes in plain sight. The hierarchy and the checks and balances of accounting were in his favour.
At the end of June we will hear his plea of mitigation. No excuse will be robust enough for his former colleagues. It is unlikely any explanation will satisfy a sceptical public as to how this extraordinary tragic-comic farce was allow to unfold.
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