Amateur sleuths and an unsolved mystery
Twenty years after the Wembley Point woman disappeared, can she be traced?
On 29 October 2004, a young woman walked into Wembley Point, an office block in west London. She took a lift up to the 21st floor, where the workplace canteen was situated. She bought a coffee, sat at a table near the window, smoked a cigarette and leafed through a copy of the Guardian. Then she stood up, climbed onto the table, opened the window and jumped out. The woman, who died that day, was never identified. Twenty years on, her identity remains a mystery.
Last year, I wrote a long piece for the Guardian’s Saturday magazine about the case, following efforts by a team of amateur investigators to track down the Wembley Point woman, as she has become known. Working for an organisation called Locate International, these volunteers have trawled council records, interviewed witnesses and pounded pavements in their quest to identify her. It has not been an easy task. As I wrote in the story:
The only clues to the woman’s identity are the things she left on the table. A seven-day bus pass issued three days earlier, on Tuesday 26 October, bought at 7.07am on Seven Sisters Road in north-east London, more than 10 miles away. £5.20 in cash. A copy of the Guardian. An empty pack of cigarettes. A black carrier bag bearing the lettering “CPNY”. The oil painting. Measuring 60cm x 30cm, it is a mostly abstract work featuring different figures and monochrome patterns that look as if they could be derived from tribal art. On the right are bodies dancing, or falling. At the centre is a blank white space where a face should be.
One of the things that drew me to this story was the haunting idea that someone could die and apparently not be missed. This conjures all the ways in which someone can fall through the cracks: living a transient life, forming shallow relationships. While I was researching the story, I watched the incredible 2011 documentary Dreams of a Life (available to watch online here) about the tragic story of Joyce Vincent, a woman who died in her flat but was not discovered until three years later. One of the most painful aspects of this film was how many people knew and loved Joyce - but had dropped out of touch over the years, or assumed that she was simply spending time with other people, or had closer friends who would be checking if she was okay.
The story of the Wembley Point woman is deeply sad, but I also found it strangely hopeful talking to the volunteers dedicating so much time and energy to identifying her and trying to restore some dignity in death. Locate International is a fascinating organisation. Founded by two former police officers in 2019, it trains and mobilises volunteers to investigate cold cases of missing people or unidentified bodies, with the kind of pavement-pounding work that police forces often lack the resources to do. It’s an interesting counterpoint to the often destructive trend for online sleuthing whereby true crime fans end up harassing families or disrupting criminal investigations. The team trying to track down the Wembley Point woman have become deeply invested:
To the people investigating, this woman has become a real person rather than just a case – the details just out of reach, but somehow within touching distance. Watts keeps returning to the possessions. “She didn’t just have a nine-to-five. She had a broader mind, a creative element – even if she didn’t create that artwork, she appreciated it.” Tilley worked on the case for two years, before stepping back to focus on her PhD. But she still thinks about the Wembley Point woman: “I would sometimes dream about her and the moments just before she jumped. Without even realising it, you get so attached, and you talk about her as if she is someone you know.”
It’s been a year and a half since I published that piece, and I thought I’d share an update. After the story was published, Locate received 47 leads, which have all now been investigated or ruled out. The most promising was from a translator who came forward and said she recognised the woman as another translator for a solicitor who helped victims of human trafficking. She thought the Wemebly Point woman was from French-speaking West Africa, someone who had been trafficked into Belgium before coming to the UK. The tipster had visited this woman’s home and said she smoked the same cigarettes (Marlboro Lights) and had artwork on the wall similar to the mysterious oil painting. It all sounded so promising that Locate thought they had solved the case. But eventually, they tracked down the West African translator that the tipster remembered, and confirmed she had returned to her country of origin. She was not the Wembley Point woman after all. It’s yet another example of how challenging it is to identify someone with so little information, and after so much time has elapsed.
Others came forward to say they had seen the Wembley Point woman at the office block in the weeks prior to her death, which suggests she was a regular there. This makes sense; when I interviewed people who had worked in the building, they all said the canteen was not frequented by members of the public. Another tip suggested she may have worked as a cleaner or casual contractor, hidden from other members of staff, which may explain why no-one working in the building identified her after her death. Other tips have suggested she was involved in the Chestnuts Arts and Community Centre in Seven Sisters, close to where she purchased her bus pass from, or that she may have been involved with West African cultural groups in the area.
It’s still tantalisingly out of reach, but to mark 20 years since her death, Locate is appealing again for more information - in particular anyone with knowledge of West African or arts groups in Seven Sisters in the early 2000s, people who worked in cleaning or catering for Wembley Point in the same period, or indeed anyone who thinks the description or story sounds familiar. If you think you might know something (however small), you can contact them on appeals@locate.international
Reading/listening
I wept all the way through this Guardian Long Read profile of the Palestinian journalist Wael Dahdouh. It’s an incredible account of one man’s personal tragedy, and the best thing I’ve read on Israel’s relentless targeting of journalists in Gaza.
The Tortoise podcast Dangerous Memories is completely absorbing and gripping. It looks at a self-described “healer” who took over and ruined the lives of a group of privileged young women in London.
On a completely different note, this New York Times feature about the people harangued by grudge-holding crows is full of amazing facts. (Did you know a crow can hold a grudge for around 17 years?)
My recent work
It’s been a long time since I last wrote to you! Here are a few pieces I’ve published in the interim.
At the end of August I wrote a comment piece for the Guardian about government plans to fight extreme misogyny as if it were terrorism.
More recently, I enjoyed delving into the world of private members clubs - from elite establishments to community hubs - for the Observer Magazine.
For Hyphen, I wrote about the fractious debate over gentrification of London’s Brick Lane, which is the heart of the British Bangladeshi community. I loved learning more about the history of radical activism in this area.
And finally - apologies to regular readers for my total lack of posting recently. It’s been a hectic couple of months for various reasons, but I am hoping to resume regular service now. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks - and in the meantime, if you found this useful or interesting, do share it on social media or forward to a friend. Thank you, and I’ll be back soon!