HOW does a man who grew up in the supposedly sleepy town of Harborough end up in Thailand, clubbed and stabbed to death?

What a tangled web we weave.

By most accounts murdered 69-year-old Ian Beeston, who was brought up in Knights End Road, Great Bowden, is described as a helpful and friendly man.

Neighbours in north-east Thailand said the father-of-two was ‘a nice, charming man’ who had helped them out with DIY tasks for no-charge.

Contemporaries of Mr Beeston still living in Harborough remember him as a conscientious, intelligent youngster who was a member of Harborough’s air cadet squadron.

He married a woman from Oundle (they had two children together) but that relationship appears to have ended about 20 years ago in messy circumstances.

The trail goes cold and people lose touch with Mr Beeston.

He was known to have worked as a design engineer at the Ford plant in Dagenham. That closed in 2000.

But questions arise:

*Where and when did he meet Thai woman Wacheerawan – the woman who would later be accused of plotting his death?

*Did they meet in the UK and move to Thailand or did Ian go to Thailand with the intention of finding love?

The answers to these questions could be key to his state of mind before he decided to vacate England and settle abroad thousands of miles away.

One of our reporters, Esso Award-winning reporter Ian O’Pray unearthed some intriguing generic information about the Thai bride situation from an expatriate Harborian now living in Thailand.

Giles Rycraft, who used to work in the advertising department at the Harborough Mail, said Roi-Et is one of the north-eastern provinces in Thailand where many foreigners find Thai brides.

He said: “It's no coincidence that it's also one of the poorest provinces in the country. I have driven through several times. There are a lot of westerners that marry younger women and some of the local men find it a little insulting to them, some of those women may already be involved with Thai men already, but source [marry] westerners and keep up their old relationships hoping that the older culturally-unaware westerner gent will not realise.

“The Thai guy accepts it as they guess it won't last and/or the guy may pass away before too long, or that the woman will end the marriage and return to her Thai partner and it will all look like no more than a relationship that didn't work out.

“After reading more into the news and contacting a friend in Roi-Et province, it seems that the relationship she was upholding in the background came to a turning point and she wanted to return to her previous partner, he probably encouraged her to try and absolve herself from him and get the house in her name for them both.

“Unfortunately for Mr Beeston, and his funds were running low, his demise probably stemmed from that, and the couple thought they'd cash in from the house.

“It’s all very sad, but believe me, this has happened before and will happen again.

“What I do hope will happen is that the British Government will press and peruse legal justice on this matter, and that the guilty parties will get heavy sentences.

“I feel for anyone locally who knew him, and of course his family. He does sound like a genuinely kind-hearted man, it seems he was an upstanding member of the community who got wound up in something that was beyond his foreseeing.”

Mr Rycraft’s observances certainly give an intriguing take on the situation.

In a bizarre twist, Mr Beeston’s father is believed to have hailed from south-east Asia. Friends remember Beeston Sr being from Malaysia or Burma.

South-east Asia ended up being his son’s resting place.

IT is Tuesday (Aug 12), 11.10am.

A reader pops into the Mail office and casually mentions: “Did you see that story in the Daily Express about the murdered man from Great Bowden?”

That nonchalantly uttered phrase set off a frenzied chain of events which led to about 100 phone conversations, numerous emails, phone calls to Thailand and the slow unwrapping of what proved to be one of the Mail’s biggest stories in recent years.

What emerged as the hours rolled by and the phone miles picked-up was a sense of the individual behind the murder statistic.

Rather than Ian Beeston, the faceless victim; he became Ian Beeston, the father-of-two, the design engineer, the man who played with train sets in Great Bowden as a youngster and who was a member of Harborough’s air cadets.

A surprising number of people – or maybe not so remembering how close-knit Harborough roots can be – remembered Mr Beeston, his brother, his mother.

One call led to another lead which led to another lead…

Next up was the painstaking task of searching the Mail archives. This, I admit, is a labour of love as I could spend days holed-up in the office looking through past editions.

The hunt uncovered a front page story in 1966 relating to the death of Ian’s mother and step-dad in a tragic car crash.

Then, after many hours’ searching and six or seven years’ worth of editions we eventually found a picture of Ian in a 1955 photo at a cadets awards ceremony.

The fresh-faced picture of a mid-teens youngster unaware of his tragic fate ahead stares out from the page.

I didn’t get to bed until 3.30am on Tuesday and was up three-and-a-half-hours later.

Wednesday’s digging revealed even further pieces of the puzzle. One of our reporters Jemma Crowston even tracked down Mr Beeston’s brother-in-law, now living in Oundle, which led to contact with Mr Beeston’s first wife, now housed in Lincolnshire. She declined to comment.

By the time the paper was put to be for Thursday, August 14, we had eventually built up the full picture of Ian Beeston: the Man.

WE are always told that Britain loves an underdog.

This is why Brits will always support David over Goliath, Drake over the Armada, Rocky over Clubber Lang and probably why most were cheering the Russians the other night against Holland in the Euros.

Harborough had two classic underdog stories this week which would grace the oft-used Underdog Vs Big Company plot of a Grisham novel.

The first [‘Threat to put a spoke in store’s wheel’, Mail, page 3], was about Great Bowden’s John Smith (38) who is threatening to picket Halfords in Harborough with a placard because he felt the firm unfair when they wouldn’t fix or replace his son’s six-month-old bike, which was still under warranty.

When Mr Smith kicked up a fuss [he told a browsing customer not to shop there], he was banned from the store.

Most people would leave it at that, at worst write a strongly-worded letter to the firm’s head office.

Not the placard-threatening Mr Smith.

I’m not sure I necessarily agree with all of Mr Smith’s grumbles, but I sure as hell respect his taking-on of a big firm.

It’s probably the underdog thing. I hope he gets a new BMX out of it for his lad. Good luck Mr Smith!

The story also contained my favourite quote of the week, the understatement is sublime:

“But when I went in at the weekend they seemed to have problems removing the sprocket. The lad went to get his manager, who told me they wouldn’t fix it. He said the warranty was void because it hadn’t been looked after…I wasn’t best pleased.”

The second underdog tale is one the Harborough Mail broke exclusively on its website on Friday.

I received a call on the newsdesk from our photographer/newshound Andrew Carpenter to say he‘d heard Pete Callis, a Harborough councilor off-and-on since 1979, had been arrested in London for protesting outside Parliament with a sandwich board slagging off MPs.

You couldn’t make it up.

Cllr Callis is a 69-year-old carpet fitter and, it is fair to say, a character. He has always been one to call a spade a spade and, refreshingly, has never paid much heed to towing the party line.

As it transpired he hadn’t actually been arrested as such but ‘stopped and searched’ because you now need a permit to protest outside Parliament.

One of the slogans on the sandwich board: “Are MPs hypocritical spongers”. It’s to the point.

He was complaining about the proposed huge pay-hike in MPs’ pay while the rest of the world and his dog is belt-tightening.

It’s not going to make a jot of difference as to what MPs decide, but you have to give him credit. Good on you Pete, stick it to the man.

The story also produced some more beautifully understated comments. The following is after he’d been spoken to by police at their station, an unsettling experience you’d think:

“I had a good day out at Westminster,” he told the Mail.

Groans:

Here’s some curios from the newsdesk this week and an example of one of the things I have to deal with behind-the-scenes at the newspaper

A man from Walcote, near Lutterworth, phoned on Wednesday about a NIB (News in Brief) that went in our Lutterworth edition a week or so ago.

It was about some idiots who had placed wheelie bins across the road, blocking the path of motorists. The police were appealing for witnesses as this stupidity could have caused an accident. We took the information in good faith and did a NIB.

This chap from Walcote phoned, ostensibly to questioning whether it had ever happened. Strange, I thought, but I gave him the phone number of the Harborough police station for him to further his enquiry at his leisure.

About half an hour later, he phoned back – irritation and rising anger sounding in his voice - and said the police had told him some different information than had appeared in the paper. I explained that I was sorry but that was what we were told at the time by a Sergeant at our weekly meeting with the police. We had taken it in good faith, what more could we do? Why would we question their fact-giving?

He said the article put Walcote residents in a bad light because it suggested they had placed the wheelie bins in the road – something that was not suggested in the article at all. He wanted an apology going in the paper. I said this would not be happening and he called me a ‘pompous git’ and said it was ‘typical of today’s media’.

I’m not going to brow-beaten and intimidated by these kinds of people; but before I had a chance to respond fully he hung up. I did manage to get out ‘and you’re charming’ but he clearly didn’t want to hear my point of view.

Why is it that people feel they can phone up the paper and have a massive go, extremely impolitely? Treat others as you would like to be treated yourself mister Walcote.

I had another guy phone up on Friday about the flowers being ripped up in Welland Park, a story we carried on page 2 of Thursday’s Mail.

He phoned to espouse the rather odd view that it was obvious why it happened – the yobs ain’t got nothing to do, so really it was the council’s fault. He said the council shouldn’t have fenced off the old play equipment until the winter and started work then. He was even surprised others hadn’t called saying same.

Now, I’m all for giving the council a body blow when it’s deserved but there are so many flaws in this argument.

I thought: “Shouldn’t we just be grateful that such an investment is being made in the first place rather than quibbling over when it is built?”

But I put my own personal view aside and suggested he write to the Letters Page because we would not be doing an article about his viewpoint. Anyway, apparently that made me an apparatchik of the council and he hung-up

A colleague suggested tongue-in-cheek that maybe the council should provide a bed of flowers for the youth to have a good old ripping at, rather than the £300,000 new play park it is building.

WHAT have I let myself in for?

For some reason I thought it wise to put myself through the pain barrier by entering this year’s Sport Relief event in Harborough on Sunday, March 16 (2.30pm).

I’ve elected for the 6km route – the second worst option.

It sets off from Saino’s car park in Springfield Street and goes along the Millennium Mile. I hope I don’t get lost along the way and end up on the 10km route by accident!

It may seem small-fry, but for someone who hasn’t ran 6km for some time I’m pretty daunted.

Through this blog, I’m going to try to update it with how the training regime is going/not going etc. I suppose they’ll be some sacrifices – less boozing in Enigma and fewer chips from St Mary’s Chippy.

I’ll also have to motivate myself to get back down the gym at Harborough Leisure Centre.

P:S: I've changed the colour scheme of the blog to fit in with Sport Relief!

I’m trying to raise as much money as possible in sponsorship and I’ve set up a fundraising page at pretty pllllllease sponsor me J:

www.mysportrelief.com/newsed

DEPRESSINGLY, the adage that nice guys finish last proved right on Saturday night (Dec 8).

Floyd Mayweather Jr defeated brave Ricky Hatton with a knockout in round ten at the MGM Grand Arena in Las Vegas.

All seems not right with the world after this WBC welterweight fight – forget BBC Sports Personality of the Year, gutsy Hatton would get my vote for sports personality of any era.

Seldom seen in this ever-increasing sound bite-laden, never-say-anything-that-may-offend sports superstars, Hatton is a straight-shootin’, funny, honest and down-to-earth Brit.

I dearly wanted Hatton to win this scrap – dubbed as the biggest fight of the decade beforehand - more than any other witnessed.

Mayweather is an A-list star but also a grade-A idiot. His smug look is enough to boil the blood but Mayweather’s disagreeable team in the corner added to the disagreeability.

A pro-Hatton crowd cheered on their man and the USA vs. Britain element came to the fore.

Tom Jones’ singing of the national anthem was roundly cheered whereas the American anthem was whistled out of the arena – common in football arenas, the Americans were apparently non-impressed by the custom.

Such is Mayweather’s arrogance, even his own countrymen were adverse. Ex-middleweight champ Bernard Hopkins was seen at ringside cheering on Ricky!

Ultimately, Ricky came up short. He was caught too much coming in and Mayweather showed true class. I really believed Hatton could pull it off but alas not.

And as a parting shot, the referee Joe Cortez was an absolute disgrace to boxing. God forbid he would ever have officiated a Roberto Duran fight. Awful!

In the post-mortem, commentator Jim Watt described Cortez’ performance as “deplorable”.

Ricky says he will fight on – but my hunch is that he will never be the same again. Reading his autobiography, a solitary loss in the amateur days cut deep [ringside witnesses say the judges robbed him] and this defeat will affect him similarly.

Seeing him interviewed by Sky Sports’ Ian Darke post-fight, the appeal of Hatton was again obvious. So rarely these days would you get such a frank, at-close-quarters interview after the event.

I don’t recall the England football team being interviewed immediately after the recent debacle at Wembley against Croatia.

This was Hatton’s shot at boxing immortality. Sadly, he came up short.

NOTHING gets my goat more than authorities who keep to themselves information which is of interest to the public.

The culture is akin to the Jack Nicholson rant in the film A Few Good Men – “You can’t handle the truth!”

How patronising. They, the enlightened ones, are able to handle the information yet we, the unenlightened and supposedly irrational and reactionary, are not.

What a ridiculous state of affairs. Especially when you consider that we, the tax payer, pay their wages!

The reason for this spleen-vent is that once again this week we see an example of where the police have keep back some info on a very serious crime happening in our neighbourhood.

On its website on Wednesday (Nov 7), Leicestershire police issued a picture of a suspect wanted in connection with a sexual assault on a 28-year-old woman.

The man, in a taxi, drove the woman to a spot in Great Glen to commit this vile act before driving back to Leicester.

Everyone would agree this was a heinous act but wait – this happened on August 27. August 27! That’s nearly three months ago. Surely any witness – even one with a photographic memory - who might have seen a vital clue will have forgotten anything by now.

Here is a quote from said press release:

DC Nick Freeman is investigating the incident, he said: "The incident took place on the August Bank Holiday. We have been following a number of lines of enquiry since then to identify the offender including liaising with the taxi licensing department at Leicester City Council and now need the public's assistance.”

Oh, I see! Now you need the public’s assistance. How gracious of you. So when – if ever – where you planning on telling the community such a horrific act occurred on their doorstep? Never?

Why oh why are we not told? My colleagues and I have countless examples of when this has happened.

I don’t know what they think the great British public will do if informed – run for the hills perhaps or start an angry mob doling our vigilante violence?

It's not so much a culture of secrecy but a culture of their distrust of us.

But maybe it’s because “We can’t handle the truth?” Comments welcomed on this very frustrating issue.

*Please add your examples in the Comments Box.

                The 18th...looks a little like Kilworth Springs


THERE'S nothing like a good freebie.
Simon Johnson (24), of Great Glen, kindly blagged some free tickets to the final day of the British Masters golf at The Belfry, West Midlands, on Sunday (September 23).
Along with fellow former Carl trophy winner Pete Stubbs (27), Johnno and I spent the day strolling around the fantastic course, one of the most famous gofing destinations in the world (550 acres and three 18-hole courses there).
Despite a bit of cold in the air, the rain stayed away and we managed to watch a good day's play.
Highlights were Lee Westwood's birdie putt at the par-three seventh hole and Colin Montgomerie's fluffing of the same hole and getting a bogey from mere feet away - very encouraging for the amateur to see!
What struck us as amazing was the closeness at which you could get to the players. On arrival we were inside a metre of one chap playing a shot from the rough. It would be akin to standing behind Beckham as he squares up for a free-kick.
Prices were fairly shocking: £4.50 for a sweaty cheese burger and a staggering £5.50 for sausage and chips. Beers (Carlsberg) were £3.50 a pint.
All in all though, an enjoyable day.

WAKING at 4am to be thrust many metres in the air with just a wicker basket between you and impending doom was not my first idea of a winding-down Friday

The three-day Northampton Balloon Festival began today (August 17), an international event in its seventeenth year which is accompanied by fairground rides, displays and other sideshows.

Press passes were limited and it was not a certainty I’d “go up” so I was relatively blasé about the prospect.

But when the passes came through this week, for reporter Lindsay Burns and I, the reality dawned.

It probably didn’t help that someone told me the day before about Ian McEwen book Enduring Love where a character gets split in half during a freak ballooning accident. Nice.

At 4am the streets of Harborough are deserted. The roads are clear: it took just 30 minutes to get from the town centre to Northampton. There were no jams at Kingsthorpe! Lindsay said it was “too early to hear”.

The dawn was picture-postcard orange and purple – dashing the last weaselling-out excuse of bad weather.

Poor conditions had scuppered many a morning attempt in the past. A Northampton Chronicle and Echo photographer said she had attended three dawn attempts in as many years and was turned away each time because of bad weather.

By 6.30am, we had been allocated a team and pilot. I was slightly concerned about what the shape of the balloon would be like – I wanted a safe, normal-shaped, sphere-like balloon not one shaped like a dog or Snickers bar.

Luckily, our balloon was a white, blue, orange and normally-shaped effort.

For the record, the only two oddly-shaped ones were a Bertie Bassett of Liquorice Allsorts fame and a beer barrel. I was told they cost between £20,000-£50,000 and have a life of about 500 hours.

Our pilot was the eccentric Mike Gunston of Hampshire, a man with 17 years’ ballooning experience and – reassuringly – an Air Traffic Controller by day.

Our steed was sponsored by Salford-based company Vital Resources, a firm which supplies blue-collar workers for the engineering trade.

It had sand deposits stuck inside the balloon (or ‘envelope’ as Mike referred to it) because it had just been flying over Dubai.

Unknown to me was that Lindsay and I would be called upon to help set the balloon up. This was an advantage – and fun. Much better than standing around watching the experts [four] at work. It also allowed us to see the whole process from trailer-to-flight.

The nylon balloon, with a fire retardant patch near the bottom, holds thousands of cubic feet of air, but the whole thing amazingly squeezes into a canvas bag the size of a chest of drawers.

Once unfurled on the ground, various metal chords and ropes are attached from the balloon to the 15-stone wicker basket with carabiner clips and then its ready to be inflated.

This is done using a high-strength fan which fills the whole balloon up inside of ten minutes. I was tasked with holding open the mouth of the balloon to aide the filling-up process.

Then Mike said: “When we fire the propane burners into the balloon it will go upwards, away from your hands.” Away from my hands?!

Horrific hand burns avoided, the flames inflated the balloon further and we then put our weight on the basket before four of us hopped in.

And then we were up, up and away. Slowly rising and the ground getting further away – eventually 1,000-feet up (imagine three 400-metre running tracks on top of each other).

The nausea and Alton Towers stomach-churn I expected was pleasingly absent. Instead it was peaceful and serene. The views were amazing. Everything was reduced to the size of the proverbial ants (people) and Tonka cars.

Most impressive was probably travelling high above houses and lakes.

The balloon is at the mercy of the drifting wind and the pilot controls height with the burners.

Eventually Mike chose a suitable landing spot. “Bend your knees to absorb the impact as we land,” he said.

Bump, bump, bump, a shuddering holt, a teetering and then the basket falls on its side with the four of inside. It was a bit of a rocky landing but quite exciting. After clambering out, the only injury was a few grazes on Lindsay’s knuckles.                        

    In total, we were in flight for 45 minutes and had travelled nearly nine miles. It reached a steady 15mph.

The stubble field we ended up in was at Tower Farm in the village of Earls Barton. We were told it is common practice for the ballooners to give the farmer a bottle of wine as courtesy for use of the field.

We were not stranded. Two of the helpers who aided the set-up had been following in their 4x4 and kept in touch via radio contact and GPS.

*A big thanks to Mike, the rest of the team Bob, Carl and Steve (who was late into work thanks to the delay on the A45 on the way back) and the press office for arranging this once-in-a-lifetime experience.
*TO see video footage of a ride at this year's balloon festival visit sister paper the Northampton Chronicle and Echo website at http://www.northamptonchron.co.uk/video?articleid=3119727