Welcome to Murder Mile.

Today, I'm standing on Oxbridge Road, W12.

Four roads up from the Beast of Shepherd's Bush, I'm standing on Oxbridge Road, W12.

Four roads up from the Beast of Sheppers' Bush.

A few doors down from the devil's child and his little snack.

Over the road from where Rich Christie destroyed his dog.

And a short walk from Bernie.

The paedophile, the press hid. Coming soon to Murder Mile.

A 370 Uxbridge Road in Shepherd's Bush currently stands the new Coach House, an alcohol advisory service.

But back in the 1990s, at the old coach house, within a Victorian three-story flat-fronted building,

once stood a car dealership called Mar. Typical of most garages, all the shiny cars sparkled on the forecourt,

as out back old bangers had holes patched and panels bashed.

With space for ten cars, like many dealerships, an oily spiv slicked on the charm,

as he attempted to bamboozle a customer, with a bluster that a nearly knackered, freshly waxed, death trap was a dream brumbrom.

With its rust rebranded as vintage patina, the unique blue hue spewing from

the exhaust described as an optional extra, and the obligatory pine freshener dangling from the

mirror to disguise the whiff of body burbs which lingered in the seat.

On Saturday the 5th of December 1992, 32, 33-year-old estate agent Gillian Bennett entered Marned Garage.

With her life and career going well, she purchased a nearly new, bright red, K-ridge Fiat Uno, given a sense of freedom with her own car.

This should have been an exciting chapter in her reassuringly safe little life.

And yet finding a series of odd mechanical issues which required the dealership's attention.

It wasn't only the car which caused her problems.

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