2025-05-03 00:18:47

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In the five decades he has spent behind bars, Robert Maudsley has had plenty of time for writing letters. Missives sent include observations on his favourite television shows – wildlife programmes with David Attenborough – and requests for improvements to his accommodation. But this week a hitherto unseen side to Prisoner A9388AA emerged – Maudsley is in love. 'My dear sweet Loveinia,' the handwritten notes to the 69-year-old he refers to as his 'girlfriend' begin, praising her for 'being there for him' and pouring out his thoughts. 'All the kindness, thoughtfulness and love you have shared with me through these last short years can get me through anything,' he writes. 'My beautiful Loveinia, the more love we experience in our lives, the more the bad experiences tend to fade into the distance and we can live our lives to the full.' The letters are signed off with the name Bob, and are always followed by three kisses. Such saccharine sentiments could hardly be in starker contrast to the reputation that has grown up around Maudsley during his 51 years in prison, of which 46 have reportedly been spent in solitary confinement – a world record. Because Bob, who is also Britain's longest-serving prisoner, is better known by the array of nicknames earned from the brutal killings of the four men he despatched with his bare hands. He was initially known as 'Blue' because that was the colour the face of his first victim turned as he slowly strangled him. Then he became known as 'Spoons', after killing a fellow prisoner and leaving the body with a spoon sticking out of the skull and with part of the brain missing. That gave rise to the unfounded belief that he'd actually eaten the organ, prompting the moniker that he is perhaps best known by – Hannibal the Cannibal. Two more gruesome murders followed in a single day, both fellow inmates. Having killed them, he handed a guard his bloodied, home-made knife, saying: 'There'll be two short on the roll call.' Ever since, Maudsley has been regarded as Britain's most dangerous prisoner. Such was the risk he posed, special arrangements were made for his incarceration. In 1983, he was moved in to an underground glass and perspex cell at Wakefield, a Category A jail dubbed Monster Mansion on account of the criminals it holds. Some believe Maudsley's purpose-built cell was the inspiration for Hannibal Lecter's in The Silence of the Lambs. To that background, it's hard to imagine why anyone would want to befriend Maudsley, let alone exchange love letters with him. But, as the Mail reveals today, the woman in question shares an extraordinary link to her pen pal. Like Maudsley, Loveinia Mackenney's father was convicted of four gruesome killings. The murders, as outlined in a 'macabre' Old Bailey trial, involved corpses being cut up and incinerated. Jailed in 1980, Harry 'Big H' Mackenney – so called because of his 6ft 5in height – was given a whole-life tariff and would spend time in Parkhurst Prison on the Isle of Wight. Maudsley was also there for a number of years, although it is not known if the two were there together. Throughout her father's time inside, Ms Mackenney was a regular visitor, supporting him as he fought to prove his innocence – something he achieved in 2003, aged 72, when he was cleared by the Court of Appeal on the grounds that the main witness had been found to be a pathological liar. While there is no suggestion that Maudsley, 71, is innocent of any of his crimes, the background to his offending has long elicited sympathy in certain circles. Abused by his father, his first victim was a paedophile. The three who followed in prison were also sex offenders. Relatives of Ms Mackenney say she is a 'kind and compassionate' person and that the case of Maudsley had 'resonated' with her. It is understood she first learned about the killer after watching a 2020 documentary about his life. 'Imagine what he has suffered down the years,' Ms Mackenney said in an interview with a tabloid newspaper. 'I cannot comprehend what he has been through and what he continues to go through. 'He needs all the support he can get. I am not just a pen friend, and if you see the letters from him, you will understand that. My heart breaks for him and my heart goes out to him... we have shared so many similar experiences.' Ms Mackenney spoke about their 'relationship' after Maudsley shared the surprise news with her that he had been transferred from Wakefield to Whitemoor Prison in Cambridgeshire. In a letter dated April 18, he revealed he was on F Wing at Whitemoor, having been relocated ten days earlier. The wing specialises in handling prisoners with personality disorders and includes what is known as the Close Supervision Centre – where there is limited or no association with other inmates. The move came after Maudsley clashed with officers at Wakefield when belongings including his TV, radio and PlayStation were temporarily removed from his cell as part of a wider search of the whole prison for hidden weapons. Maudsley threatened to go on hunger strike unless they were returned. In his letter to Ms Mackenney, Maudsley said the transfer was linked to the problems he had been having at Wakefield, but that 'due to certain restrictions etc am not able to write as freely as I would wish to'. But a source told the Mail he was moved because he was viewed as being 'a threat' to prison officers. 'He's been a management issue for a while and has become very difficult to deal with,' he said. 'He was warned he would be moved if he continued to be a problem. 'For people like him who are institutionalised and will never be released, being moved from somewhere relatively secure to a new environment is a very big deal.' A prison officer at Whitemoor said dealing with Maudsley had so far been relatively straightforward, but that no chances were being taken. 'He is a very unstable, unpredictable individual so he can never be allowed to interact one on one with a prison officer,' he said. 'He has a highly structured routine and his cell is unlocked individually by a minimum of two officers, usually three. 'Every interaction with Maudsley is pre-planned and should be risk-assessed. There are no casual encounters between prison officers – he is just too dangerous. 'Our aim is to take the stress out of every situation, give Maudsley forewarning of any disruptions to his routine so that he doesn't see them as a form of punishment.' He added: 'Although he is dangerous, he is also very vulnerable.' While it appears Maudsley didn't want to be moved, there was a time when he was desperate to get out of Wakefield, claiming his treatment there was inhumane. In 2000, he wrote to a newspaper: 'What purpose is served by keeping me locked up 23 hours a day? Why even bother to feed me and to give me one hour's exercise a day? Who actually am I a risk to? 'As a consequence of my current treatment and confinement, I feel that all I have to look forward to is psychological breakdown, mental illness and probable suicide. 'Why can't I have a budgie instead of flies, cockroaches and spiders which I currently have? I promise to love it and not eat it. Why can't I have a television in my cell to see the world and learn? Why can't I have any music tapes and listen to beautiful classical music? 'If the Prison Service says no, then I ask for a simple cyanide capsule which I shall willingly take and the problem of Robert John Maudsley can easily and swiftly be resolved.' But in recent years, the conditions of his imprisonment have improved, with relatives saying he has grown used to the 'solitude' and would not want to leave. Speaking recently to Channel 5's Evil Behind Bars documentary, Maudsley's nephew, Gavin, gave fascinating details of his life at Wakefield. This included access to books, music and a games console, on which he likes to play chess and violent video game Call of Duty. Gavin revealed that he, his father Paul, and Maudsley's brother Kevin were regular visitors, bringing in treats such as banana-flavoured milk – a favourite. 'It is all banter and having a laugh,' said Gavin, who refers to his relative as Uncle Bob. 'He will bring a flask of hot water with him and some tea bags so he can make us a cup of tea. Wakefield used to be his hell but now it has settled down and he is comfortable and treated as a human being. He knows he is on a whole life tariff and he has told me he will serve out that sentence to the best of his ability because he knows what he done was a terrible thing.' But he added: 'He's asking to be on his own because he knows what can happen. Put him with rapists and paedophiles – I know because he told us – he is going to kill as many paedophiles as he can.' Ms Mackenney echoed those concerns, telling the Sunday Mirror: 'It is a disaster waiting to happen. He does not want to be alongside other men because of the abuse he suffered as a child. 'You can tell from his letter to me what a terrible state he is in, his handwriting is shaky. He no longer has his TV, he has no radio. He was a model prisoner on his own, but I think they have targeted him. They are victimising him for no reason. People see him as a monster, they call him Hannibal the Cannibal. I know that he is far from that.' Others take a much less sympathetic view. 'He has something of a fanbase both inside and outside of prison because he murdered sex offenders, so in many people's eyes he has done nothing wrong,' said a prison source. 'Maudsley is regarded by prison officers as a 'double Category A prisoner'. It's not an official term but is a reflection of the danger he poses.' The fourth of 12 children born to a violent lorry driver, Maudsley and his three older siblings spent their early life in a Catholic orphanage in Crosby, Merseyside. But he was returned to the family home, where he was subjected to a regime of violence and deprivation. He would later say that when he killed, he saw his parents' faces in place of his victims. 'If I had killed my parents in 1970, none of these people need have died,' he once said. 'If I had killed them, then I would be walking around as a free man without a care in the world.' At 16, Maudsley ran away to London, working as a rent boy. He killed for the first time in 1974 when a builder picked him up for sex, showing him photos of a young girl he had abused. Maudsley strangled the man and then handed himself in to police. Deemed unfit to stand trial, he was sent to Broadmoor. In February 1977, he and another inmate took a child abuser hostage, torturing him for nine hours. The man was found with his head 'cracked open like a boiled egg' and with a spoon hanging out. While it entered legend that he had eaten some of the man's brain, the sharpened spoon handle had in fact been thrust into his ear canal to kill him. Maudsley was convicted of manslaughter and sent to Wakefield, where, in July 1978, he murdered two more inmates. His first victim was lured into his cell, where he cut his throat with a knife made from a soup spoon. He then crept into the cell of another prisoner, and smashed his head against a wall before using the homemade weapon to prise open his skull. While at Parkhurst, he met psychiatrist Dr Bob Johnson, who, after three years of counselling, believed Maudsley was making great strides. But without warning, the treatment was cut off and Maudsley returned to Wakefield. Dr Johnson said this week he believed Maudsley would now pose little risk, saying his previous isolation had been 'inhumane, extremely expensive and entirely unnecessary'. 'I think the handling of Maudsley is an indictment of the prison system. We are a civilised country and what we are doing is locking people up for 50 years without doing anything about it. 'Maudsley... had an appalling childhood and he was getting his revenge, which is now out of his system, as far as I can see.' And what of Maudsley's new 'girlfriend'? 'I think it is quite remarkable,' the professor said. 'The fact is he has got warm, positive emotions. He has got social skills instead of killing skills. So he is solving his problems by increasing his social contacts. People may doubt the validity of it, but something is there.' Yet whatever his new-found romantic inclination, given Maudsley's history – not to mention the ancestry of his new amour – it is unlikely he will be given the benefit of the doubt any time soon.