The Ipswich Murders Trial - The Final Day

Steve Wright's rented flat in London Road

Steve Wright has been sentenced to ‘a whole life order’ which means he’ll die in prison.

Since he was found guilty yesterday, there’s been a torrent of information that the media weren’t allowed to report while the trial was in progress. We’ve learned a bit more about the victims and lots more about Wright himself, a much more disturbed individual than he previously appeared with a long history of problem gambling, patchy employment, failed relationships and several suicide attempts.

His crimes have been horrible for all the friends and relatives who’ve lost loved ones – and of course for his own relatives too, some of whom sobbed their way through proceedings yesterday.

There are also mundane issues like what will become of the flat, where perhaps five young women were smothered? Presumably, the dark blue Mondeo that Wright took such pride in has been forensically examined to pieces. There's even a rumour that London Road will be renamed.

As predicted, the various pre-trial rumours have turned out to be bullshit, although my psychological profile of the killer doesn't seem a bad effort for an amateur. I took some pictures of Steve Wright's flat on Monday, and I'll add those to this entry later.

Blogging the trial has brought me into contact with a load of new people, and from the stats quite a few new readers. I’ve learned lots about DNA and micro-fibres and the differences between a real trial and the fictional ones on the telly. But it’s over and done with now, and I’m looking forward to going back to writing about anorak stuff like my old Porsche and rather dull holidays and films seen on a Sunday night.

I know far more about Gemma now she's dead than I ever did when she was alive, but for a while now I've been trying to remember the last time I saw her. It was a warm evening in the late summer of 2006. She was striding down Victoria Street heading towards London Road, wearing very high-heeled shoes that made a sort of ‘clopping’ noise on the pavement. Her strawberry blonde hair was brushed back over her shoulders and she was wearing her usual denim mini skirt and a little jacket.

Maybe it was the heroin, but she looked happy.