In this third of four exclusive extracts from Tuula: A True Tragedy, the book exploring the decades-long mystery around the murder of Finnish worker Tuula Höök, author Mark Bridgeman takes a detailed look at events of the hour or so before Tuula’s disappearance.
The writer uses never-before-heard witness testimony, the States of Jersey Police’s original inquiry, and his own two-year investigation in compiling a detailed timeline of what really happened that night.
Offers of lifts spurned… so why was one eventually accepted?
According to witness statements and sightings, the original police inquiry, and my investigation between 2023 and 2025, the events of Friday 30th December 1966 appear to have unfolded as follows:
Around 7.30 pm Tuula left her lodgings at 19 Spencer Close in Georgetown. It was now cold and dark. Heavy squalls had shrouded the skies with thick cloud, and rain was falling persistently. As Tuula left the building, she passed a young couple in the communal doorway and said “hello”. They would later recall that she was wearing a black leather coat (a recent gift from her mother) but no headscarf. And, despite the heavy rain and her pristine ‘beehive’ hairstyle, they were both certain that Tuula was not carrying an umbrella.
Once outside, Tuula momentarily turned right along the pathway towards the line of parked cars on the narrow road, but then (according to the young couple) appeared to change her mind, and turned left instead. She had not yet passed her driving test and it is possible, due to the persistent rain, that Tuula may have briefly considered ignoring the law and using the new car she had recently purchased, instead of relying on public transport. Both her landlord and her friend Jenny had previously cautioned her against such an idea and after a momentary wavering, Tuula appears to have thought better of the idea.
Instead, she walked around the northern side of the apartment block, up the stairway among the dustbins, then turned left alongside the garages, and rejoined Spencer Close, turning right towards Beach Road. This was in fact a slightly longer route to the bus stop, which having only recently moved to the address, she may not have realised.
Once on Beach Road, Tuula then turned right onto the busy Plaisance Road, walking alongside Howard Davis Park and St Luke’s Church towards the junction with Elizabeth Street. It is important to note that the road layout at this point has changed significantly since 1966, when Tuula took her ill-fated walk to the bus stop that night.
A handful of properties at the centre of Elizabeth Street were demolished shortly after Tuula’s death, to enable Plaisance Road to continue as a through road and join the junction of Georgetown Road and Victoria Road. This alteration is still in place and is doubtless far more convenient for traffic. With this exception, little else has changed and it is still possible to walk the exact route taken by Tuula on that dark, inclement evening in 1966.
Tuula turned left and walked quickly up the slight incline of Elizabeth Street, before turning sharp right down Don Road towards the junction with Victoria Road and the bus stop. It is presumed that Tuula had expected the bus to be there at 7.45 pm. It was now almost that time. Tuula stood sheltering as best she could against the wall of the property opposite the Georgetown Bakery and Jersey Savings Bank, where the bus stop then stood.
There was no protection from the incessant rain and the pavement was narrow. The sheets of rain must have made that few minutes spent waiting for the bus seem like an eternity. No one remembers seeing her waiting there with an umbrella or head covering, which seems odd in the circumstances. Why would Tuula choose to stand in heavy rain, ruining her immaculate hair?
There were not many pedestrians walking in Georgetown that night, although the road was busy and scores of cars rushed past, some heading eastward on their way towards Gorey and St Clement, others westward into town. 7.45 pm came, and then passed, but the No 1 bus service to Gorey did not arrive.
Tuula was probably unaware that the bus timetables had been altered for the Christmas and New Year holiday period. She continued waiting, possibly believing that the 7.45 pm bus was running late. In the dimly lit street, standing alone on the narrow pavement, she must have felt vulnerable. Maybe she even considered returning to Spencer Close.
Several vehicles stopped and offered her a lift. It seems that she politely refused. Her parents had taught her never to accept lifts from strangers, although hitchhiking in Jersey was common and popular among young people at that time. Even on such an inclement night, several witnesses noticed this tall, lone, blonde woman standing forlornly at the bus stop, including her new employer at the Plaza Restaurant (Tuula had recently started work there). He was driving into town and passed the bus stop on the opposite side around 7.50 pm. He would later state that he bitterly regretted not offering Tuula a lift.
Around 7.55/8 pm, it appears that another vehicle stopped alongside Tuula at the bus stop. The driver must have spent a minute or two attempting to persuade her to get in, as a dozen or so cars were forced to wait in a queue behind. At that time, street parking was permitted on the opposite side of Victoria Road, meaning there was not sufficient room for the queue of cars behind the stationary vehicle to pass by.
Although the witnesses had the impression that Tuula was conversing with the driver of the stopped car, they paid little attention at the time, no doubt anxious to get home. Neither is there an exact description of this mystery car, or any of the other vehicles that stopped to offer Tuula a lift that night.
Some witnesses recall a light blue car, some a white van, some a Ford, others a Vauxhall or Hillman, a few were not sure. No witness was absolutely certain of the car in which Tuula accepted a ride. If, indeed, she did. No two vehicle descriptions given by onlookers that night seem to match. Nevertheless, one thing is certain; Tuula did not board the next bus when it arrived at 8.15 pm. In addition, there were no reported sightings of a young woman walking along Victoria Road, either in the direction of St Clement, nor returning towards her lodgings.
The only feasible assumption is that, at some point between 7.55 pm and around 8.05 pm, when another passenger arrived to wait at the now empty bus stop, Tuula must have accepted a lift from a person or persons unknown. An employee working in the Georgetown Bakery opposite remembered seeing an attractive, tall blonde woman standing at the bus stop for approximately ten to fifteen minutes. When he next looked up from his work, just after 8 pm, she had gone.
If Tuula did accept a lift from a passing motorist, was that driver known to her, either as a friend, or as a casual acquaintance she had met through work? Was it someone she recognised and instinctively trusted, or a figure of authority perhaps? Did he persuade her forcibly to get into his car, or had her resolve merely weakened in the pouring rain?
We will also never know whether Tuula instantly regretted accepting a lift that night, or if the journey of some eight or so minutes to the crossroads by St Clement Parish Church passed without incident. There is no record of anyone noticing a girl struggling to get out of a car or van, while that vehicle drove along the Inner Road past Samares Manor and Le Haguais towards St Clement, nor of any vehicle driving erratically.
We can probably surmise that Tuula did not sense any danger until the driver unexpectedly did not turn right along Rue de Jambert, towards the Pontac House Hotel, instead turning left and taking her instead to her tragic destiny in Rue Laurens.
Tuula, A True Crime Tragedy will be published by Tippermuir Books on 21 May. An interview with author Mark Bridgeman is available via Bailiwick Podcasts.
