How a podcast can lead to a campaign for a full posthumous pardon (Part 1)

One of the most exciting things about everyday life is that the smallest decision can occasionally set you on a path which you would never have actively considered or sought out. For me it began with a podcast.
I subscribe to the Book Panel with Simon Mayo and some weeks ago he had Catherine O'Flynn on there, discussing her Costa Prize-winning book, What Was Lost. She was really nice and the book sounded great so I ordered a copy and read it as soon as it arrived. To be honest I was disappointed. It was an easy read but I felt let down by its simplicity and the superficial plot. I turned to Amazon to see if my conclusions were mirrored and although most were five-star reviews, there were a few that voiced my general feelings on the book. One was a review by John Self, someone whose reviews and recommendations are always worth reading. His Amazon review echoed my feelings and ended, 'For what I thought was a subtler and richer discussion of lost children, I'd recommend Jill Dawson's Watch Me Disappear (which didn't get a sniff of the Booker lists!).'
I duly bought Watch Me Disappear and was blown away by this compelling book. It was a far more insightful look at lost children and the impact their disappearance has on many lives. It was this book that unwittingly led me to the campaign for a posthumous pardon referenced in this post title. I enjoyed Jill Dawson's books so much that I searched for other books by her. I found one called Fred and Edie which I knew nothing about but which I ordered on the strength of the fact that Edie is the name of my little girl.
It turned out to be a fascinating novel based on the infamous love triangle of Edith and Percy Thompson and Edith's younger lover, Freddy Bywaters. I raced through it, totally absorbed in the romance and tragedy of the story and finished it desperate for more of the facts. Dawson had referenced several key works at the back of the book so I duly ordered a copy of Criminal Justice: The true sory of Edith Thompson, by Rene Weis.
I sat back and waited for it to arrive.