The jury has returned a verdict: Raoul Moat committed suicide. He gave a lot of reasons during his final hours. One of them was having no dad. He knew nothing about his dad, apart from maybe a first name. His birth certificate listed no father and he told people his dad was from France. He wasn't.
His name is Peter Blake. He looks like Raoul. The inquest's coroner invited him to appear in the witness box, which he did, but he lost his temper and didn't come back the next day. Instead he went to Rothbury to calm down. When he returned I spoke to him, which is more than Raoul ever got to do. We had a sandwich together and I asked why Raoul never knew him.
This is what Peter told me: After graduating from LSE he worked for Solihull Borough Council, before taking a job as deputy town clerk in Alnwick, a small town in Northumberland. That was in January 1972. It sounded like an adventure. He moved into a guesthouse (the owner made excellent food) and bought a Capri. Alnwick was too quiet though, so he gravitated towards Newcastle.
On a night out in February he met a woman called Josephine Moat. She was pretty and had a lovely voice with a slight Geordie accent. She told him she had a child and was living with her mother. He visited her the following week and met her happy little boy, Angus. Peter asked about Angus's dad. Josephine said he never visited and they never married (Josephine didn't know her own dad, who was divorced from her mother).
Peter courted Josephine and in April they rented a cottage in Longhorsley, a remote Northumbrian village. She was perfect. She cooked and they had sex every day. She described him as her Heathcliff. In October things changed. She was constantly in her dressing gown, there was no dinner cooked and Angus was agitated. Peter said he'd take Jospehine to see the doctor. She said she'd been already. She was pregnant. She'd stopped taking the pill without telling Peter. She seemed unhappy. She worried that the cottage was haunted.
They moved back to Josephine's mum's house in Fenham, in the west end of Newcastle. There was controversy over them living together out of marriage, so he bought a ring. It was the wrong kind of gold. There was an argument. Then Josephine decided she didn't want to get married. Her mum said Peter couldn't stay if they didn't marry, so he went back to the guesthouse, though they still dated, and on New Year's Eve they went to his office Christmas party.
In January she said she didn't want to see him anymore. He stayed away and wrote her some letters. He thought things would get better. She ignored him. Josephine's sister told him the baby had been born. Peter knocked on Josephine's door. He knew they were inside. Nobody answered. He lost his temper and shouted through the letterbox. A policeman arrived and told Peter to calm down. He was okay, the policeman, but he threatened Peter with arrest and told him to leave. Peter left.
A few days later a solicitor's letter arrived asking Peter to leave Josephine and her baby alone. It didn't mention him being the father. Peter consulted a lawyer and was told he had no right to see the baby. He asked a vicar to intervene. Nothing happened. He gave the local National Assistance office his details in case Josephine sought financial help. Nothing happened. He didn't know what to do, so he talked to his dad and said he was performing poorly at work and drinking heavily. His dad advised him to move on.
He hung around Tyneside for another year. Nothing changed. Eventually he moved away and put Newcastle behind him. In London he moved in with a woman and became step-father to her children. He warned her: his son may knock on the door one day. He'd be called Raoul and he'd have red hair. Peter never tried to contact Raoul. Instead he waited, drinking to Raoul's health each passing birthday. He planned to hire a private detective when Raoul reached 40. Then he heard on the radio: a man named Raoul Moat had shot some people. He knew it was his son. For the next week he watched television.
He never met Raoul.