All language subtitles for Broadmoor.2024.S01E03.1080p.MY5.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

ALARM BLARES

NARRATOR:
Deep in the Berkshire countryside

sits one of Britain's
most feared institutions.

My first impression was
this is a prison.

Broadmoor Hospital.

It's notorious
because of who's there.

A place where
dangerous men are sent...

..when there's nowhere else
for them to go.

You are dealing with people

who carry substantial risk of harm
to the public.

There's always that risk
that violence might erupt.

This is the inside story...

..told by those
who've worked behind its walls...

One patient suddenly turned on me
and said,

"The trouble with you is that
you won't let me be mad."

..those once detained here...

DISTORTED:

..and by the most notorious
of all...

He called me Bob,
and I called him Peter.

PHONE RINGS

..secretly recorded
and speaking from beyond the grave.

This is the story of some
of Broadmoor's secrets and scandals.

He had charmed his way
into a position

of most extraordinary authority.

Hidden behind its walls

and high up on a hill
in the village of Crowthorne...

..Broadmoor Hospital
is one of Britain's most famous

and most secretive institutions.

The secrecy surrounding Broadmoor

is one of the abiding fascinations
of the public.

One of the great problems that
Broadmoor faces is its notoriety.

There's something
about the word "Broadmoor"

that just gets everyone's interest.

The unknown, the unknown.

What goes on behind the walls?

Staff at Broadmoor
have always been forbidden

from revealing what goes on inside.

All staff were asked to sign
the 1911 Official Secrets Act.

Secrecy was needed
to stop staff from selling stories.

Any naturally secretive institution
is going to be fascinating

to any reporter worth his salt.

And you're taught from day one,
"No comment.

"No comment."

Information about Britain's
most notorious

and most dangerous men
inside Broadmoor

is worth its weight in gold.

Strict rules ensure
nothing gets out,

and staff are reminded
on a daily basis.

You go in, and you put everything
in a locker.

You can't take phones on the unit
and all those kind of things,

and you go through the scanner.

So, you're scanned,

and you have the rub down,
and in you go.

That would be something you had
to go through every single day,

and every time you went in,
and every time you went out,

there would be security checks
for all staff.

For those who work inside
such a secretive world,

fending off the media
is part of the job.

Coming off a shift and walking home,

and a reporter
would come out from nowhere.

"Oh, you've been nursing so and so
and so and so, and, erm...

"we'll give you X amount
for this story."

And they knew who you were
cos you had your uniform on.

You see them in the pubs,

and they're getting as much
information as they can from locals

and say,
"Oh, you work at Broadmoor?"

"Yeah. Who are you?" Sort of thing.

With staff feeling
constantly harassed,

some play the press
at their own game.

We would volunteer somebody to say,
"Let's start a story up."

And if you knew
one of the local press

were gonna be in a pub, we'd say,
"Let's go down and have a laugh,"

and then feed some...
some duff information.

And then off they'd go,
thinking they've got a scoop.

And that was it.

They maybe didn't come back.

And the journalists and paparazzi
covering the hospital's patch

pulled every trick in the book
to get to its secrets.

I'm out in what we call
the airing courts,

where patients got fresh air,
chatting to them,

and I could not believe
what was coming up to the wall.

And it was a pole
that went up 18 foot

with a camera on the end,

taking photographs
of the patients inside.

There was one Broadmoor patient

the paparazzi were desperate
to snap.

Britain's most notorious
serial killer,

who brutally murdered 13 women.

Peter Sutcliffe,
the Yorkshire Ripper,

spent a very long time indeed
at Broadmoor.

For Sutcliffe,
Broadmoor became home.

It was... his environment.

This morbid fascination with him
sells papers.

I never understood why,
but there we are.

In 1997, after being attacked
inside Broadmoor,

Sutcliffe was moved
to Dorchester Ward,

where the hospital housed vulnerable
patients for their own safety.

Somebody tried to blind him,

and he was in Dunstable,

which was the hospital ward,

for ages, and then...

and then deemed to be safe enough
to come to us.

For his safety
against other patients.

Though Sutcliffe may have been
protected on the ward,

its location on the hospital grounds

provided the press
with an excellent opportunity.

And they had to build
a special fence around the ward

so that the cameras from the bypass

couldn't do long-range photography
and capture him in the ward setting.

Ten years later,
the tabloids would find another way

to get to Sutcliffe.

We had rumours
for about five years of a mole

who was giving the press information
to... to sell, basically.

In 2007, a member of staff
was paid by The Sun

for confidential information
about Sutcliffe.

Nicknamed Tipster Bob
by his paymasters,

the nursing assistant showed
a Sun reporter a medical assessment

which revealed that he'd insisted
he was well enough to be released.

For me, patient confidentiality just
comes as a given in our hospital.

Some of these tabloid breaches
of confidentiality

can wreck a service, really.

Once one person has done that,

you can lose the trust
in the whole... the whole unit.

Over a period
of just over two years,

Tipster Bob was paid more than
£7,000 for stories he leaked.

But not all of them
were about Peter Sutcliffe.

I think that Tipster Bob
had another motive beyond money,

and that he felt that somehow,

the institution wasn't being run
in the correct way any more.

I think he thought
it had gone too soft.

The claims Tipster Bob made
were a headline writer's dream.

Killers and rapists dressed up as
vampires and ghouls for Halloween.

Brutal murderer Robert Napper
wants to kill... himself.

I struggle with people
who don't carry out...

..you know, the guidelines.

You are... a nurse,
you have a PIN number.

You're accountable, responsible.

Even when you're off your shift,

you've got to stay in line.

Tipster Bob was eventually caught
and arrested,

identified as 58-year-old healthcare
nursing assistant Robert Neave

from Liverpool.

He was eventually convicted

and handed
an eight-month jail sentence

for his breaches
of patient confidentiality.

There will always be
patient confidentiality,

but the counter-argument

is Broadmoor must be held to account
somewhere,

and the danger is
they're not held to account

if it's not done publicly.

The following year,
after Neave pleaded guilty,

Broadmoor would be held accountable
as never before

when a damning report exposed

how the hospital
had given unrestricted access

to Britain's most infamous
sex offender, Jimmy Savile.

Jimmy Savile represents
probably the darkest shadow

on Broadmoor's history
in the past half a century.

NARRATOR: There is arguably
no scandal bigger

in recent British history

than the crimes
of serial sex offender Jimmy Savile.

And other than the BBC,

there is no organisation
in which he had greater power

than Broadmoor Hospital.

He had charmed his way
into a position

of most extraordinary authority.

He was made head
of this task force

that was responsible
for running the hospital.

It is a dark, dark cloud
over Broadmoor's history.

Jimmy Savile's association
with Broadmoor

began in the late '60s as a visitor.

At that time, he was a DJ
who was on Top Of The Pops

and lots of radio programmes.

But secondly, also a fundraiser.

Having spent time volunteering
and raising money

at Leeds General Infirmary
and Stoke Mandeville,

his connection with Broadmoor began
when patients sent him fan mail.

He responded to them

but also got in touch
with the hospital

and said could he come and visit?

And he did, and apparently, he had
a very successful visit there.

And that was the start
of a pretty long association.

Broadmoor's management hoped
that Savile's involvement

could help improve
the hospital's poor public image,

so they gave him
unrestricted access.

He had keys,
so he could go anywhere.

Some liked him, some didn't.

Some thought he was just brash.
I mean...

You get a man come to a function
in a... in a shell suit

when everybody else
is really nicely dressed,

and he's got more jewellery
on two hands

than any of us could ever see.

There was no mistaking
the... the chill in his eyes,

the absolute sociopathic coldness.

In the 1980s, journalist and author
Marjorie Wallace

was a regular Broadmoor visitor,

befriending
and supporting famous patients

June and Jennifer Gibbons,
known as The Silent Twins.

It was whilst visiting the twins

that Marjorie had a very disturbing
encounter with Savile.

And he looks at these two girls,
and he says,

"I'll have you first... you next."

And I give him
a really, really heavy look.

And so he jumps down
and jumps onto another table.

And then the girls,
June and Jennifer,

they look at me,
and they look at each other,

and they say,
"We thought WE were mad."

Summed it up.

Savile remained unchallenged,
and by 1988,

his position inside Broadmoor
would become untouchable.

Savile was going to people
in the Department of Health

and saying, you know,

"I've been in Broadmoor,
inside the hospital,

"I know how it works, I can see
that there's massive problems,

"and I'm the man to fix them.

"I can put them right for you."

In 1987, the Minister of Health,
Edwina Currie,

allowed him to join a task force

to examine
how Broadmoor should be run.

For a brief period, he was
the ultimate authority in Broadmoor.

It really is the lunatic
taking over the asylum.

Currie has since explained
that Savile was not in charge.

A civil servant was in charge,

but when he was interviewed
in his offices at Broadmoor,

it was clear
he believed he was in charge.

JIMMY SAVILE: There is no reason
why everybody can't be happy.

If anybody
was so basically unhappy here

that they didn't like it,

then they should
hand their notice in and leave.

Yeah, all the senior nurses
were at his beck and call.

He had a driver.

He had a house
next to the vicar's house

looking over the...
over at the hospital.

I went to his house where he lived,

and where there was, like,
a running machine in there,

and on the wall...

and it's a big...
a massive collage of pictures

ranging from presidents to popes
to all our royal family.

You name it, they were all there.
They were all taken in by him.

With access to a house on site
and influence over the staff,

Savile had the perfect cover
to carry out his reign of terror.

He was abusing patients.

Certainly,
he would spy on female patients

in the shower or wherever else.

He would stand and look at them.

There was a culture of fear

around reporting anything
that happened to a patient,

to say to anybody, you know,

"Don't you dare tell anybody
about this

"because you know what happens
to people who do."

Staff feared reprisals from Savile.

Yet there was one patient
adamant about his innocence.

In a secretly-recorded phone call
by his brother Carl,

Peter Sutcliffe
would make his feelings clear.

It wasn't until his death in 2011

that the horrific truth
about Savile's abuses

would finally be revealed.

Dr Bill Kirkup
was asked to head an inquiry

into Savile's time at Broadmoor,

which took testimony
from both staff and patients.

Savile's activities, as we heard,

did cover the full range of things,
up to and including assaults,

and those involved women and men
and boys.

We certainly heard some,

and they were absolutely
and utterly compelling

and convincing accounts.

REPORTER: Steven George, who's since
had a sex change operation,

was a 17-year-old girl when he says
Savile sexually assaulted him.

He put his hand
straight up my night dress,

and we weren't allowed
to wear pants.

So I was, you know...
Unfortunately, I could do nothing.

I couldn't stop him.

There were 11 cases of sexual abuse

reported after Savile's death

near Christmas in 2011.

It is an absolute disgrace.

The inquiry found that five
of the 11 alleged cases were proven.

As well as exposing Savile's
depraved crimes at Broadmoor,

Dr Kirkup's report gave
an insight into the man himself.

I mean,
a literal quote from one person

was he was the biggest psychopath
in the hospital.

We're all hoodwinked. Everybody.

Everybody in power
were hoodwinked by his charm,

his lies, his cover-ups.

Yeah. So, guilty.
Guilty as charged on that one.

It was during Savile's time
at Broadmoor

that the hospital welcomed
one of its most famous patients -

gangster Ronnie Kray.

Kray was a very famous inmate
of Broadmoor and knew it.

There's no question about it.

Ronnie Kray was not entirely sane,

and... he was an incredibly
volatile character.

Having courted publicity
through the '60s,

Ronnie and Reggie Kray

became Britain's most famous
gangland figures.

Convicted of murder
and diagnosed with schizophrenia,

Ronnie was sent to Broadmoor

after struggling with
his mental health in prison.

In many ways, Broadmoor was probably
the ideal place for him,

because it represented
an entirely secure environment.

Kray felt... comfortable.

Former glamour model
and friend to the Krays,

Maureen Flanagan visited Ronnie
regularly at the hospital.

Well, he was treated so differently
at Broadmoor.

He had authority in there,
but then he treated them

as he wanted them to treat him back.

He just had a way with his eyes.
Erm, you...

It's not like a shark,
where you don't make contact,

but you... When he said he wanted
this and he wanted that, "Can you?"

It was not like, "Can you?"
"Will you?"

They... They afforded him...
a little bit extra.

Nicknamed The Duke by the press,

Ronnie's life inside Broadmoor was
a far cry from the other patients'.

One word - kingpin.

That's it. Finished.

Well, I don't think
I've ever seen him not in a suit.

Not always with a tie,
but always with a suit.

I'd have to take the tailor in
every October

to measure him up again
for the suit.

I used to say,
"You don't need another suit."

And there was another reason
why Broadmoor suited Ronnie.

Ronnie definitely liked young,
good-looking boys.

He had two. Charlie Smith was one.

Quite a handsome guy
with quite longish blond hair.

And he gave wonderful presents
to Charlie Smith.

He had a lovely watch.
He had a chain from Hatton Garden.

Double murderer Smith
had come to Broadmoor in June 1979

after killing his cell mate,

but he was more than
Ronnie's boyfriend.

Charlie Smith dealt with everything
he wanted to eat and drink.

I thought,
"God, you've not changed."

This little guy scurries off,

brings the pot of coffee,
the pot of tea,

the milk, the sugar, the cups
and the saucers and the spoons.

You are allowed spoons in Broadmoor,
unlike prison.

Whilst it was known for years
that Ronnie preferred young men,

in 1985,
he was about to hatch a plan

that would help improve
his public image

and help his parole appeal.

And he just looked at her and said,

"Well, Elaine,
are you gonna marry me or what?"

That's just how he said it.

NARRATOR: Having remained
in the media spotlight

since his arrival in Broadmoor...

..in 1985,

Ronnie was about to sell a story

that he hoped would improve
his public image -

his planned marriage
to Elaine Mildener,

who had visited him in Broadmoor.

I think Reggie had said to him
that it might help with parole,

because the thing is,
if you get married,

they interview the wife,
they go to visit her home.

They want to put you in
a homely environment with a woman.

And I think
that was suggested to him.

And there was another incentive.

The tabloids would pay good money
for a Kray wedding scoop.

I went to The Sun,

and I sat down with the editor,
and we made a deal.

Twenty grand.

Providing it's exclusive,

and providing Broadmoor
would let few guests in

and a photographer.

Whilst the authorities
would normally have baulked

at allowing a press photographer in,

Ronnie's power of persuasion
did the trick.

I mean,
he had the most wonderful cake.

Lovely buffet.

Even Champagne and wine...

..which he was allowed half a glass.

Having sold his story,

Ronnie had to wait for Maureen
to bring the money,

which she did... under the noses
of the hospital staff.

I had to have that money
put into my account.

We go to Broadmoor,

and you've never seen something
counted out.

It was like...
like a king counting out a fortune.

So, five grand went to Reggie.

"There's three grand."

"Oh, right, OK.
And who's that for, Ronnie?"

"That's for Elaine."

I said, "She's the...

"She's the wife. She was the bride!

"If it wasn't for her,
you wouldn't have the money."

The marriage to Elaine didn't last.

Five years later,
Ronnie would marry again,

this time to Kate Howard,

who had also been paying him visits.

She was very saucy
and also very funny.

So when he said,
"Are we gonna get married?"

You know, she'd say,
"Yeah, about time."

"About time you asked me."

Just like the first wedding,

the story was sold
to the tabloid press.

The deal was less, funnily enough,

because it was his second marriage.

I think she settled for £10,000.

The Sun had sent the photographer,

and how they'd done the room
this time

was far better than the first time.

Despite his marriages,
Ronnie was never paroled

and spent the rest of his life
inside Broadmoor.

One of the biggest scandals
to hit Broadmoor

would damage
the hospital's reputation.

A young student nurse
spent over a year working inside

before making
some very serious allegations.

I wanted to help people.
I was very young.

But I was also open to learning.

And I did realise
that I had a lot to learn.

In 1977, 19-year-old
Colm Byrne joined Broadmoor

as a trainee psychiatric nurse.

I'd expected to learn techniques
in how to care for people,

some of whom were quite seriously
mentally disturbed.

And the things that Broadmoor
provided by way of learning

were not the things
that I'd expected.

So, this was standard issue
to all nursing staff.

We wore the uniform
during the course of the shift.

I didn't realise until I went there

that I'd have to wear
a prison officer's uniform.

A number of the staff
were ex-military,

and there were
a small group of staff

who I would say were sadistic

and tended to have very fixed views
about the patients,

often saw them as animals.

After spending the first few months
of his traineeship

on a lower secure ward,

Colm was moved to a high-dependency
ward called Dorset House.

Dorset House had a lot of patients
who were a lot more challenging.

A patient was dragged in
and sat on a chair

with a number of staff around him

mocking him, laughing at him,
calling him hunchback.

And one of them decided
that he needed a haircut,

so they got
a pair of scissors out...

..and started to cut his hair.

And they were being
very, very rough.

I was horrified,
and I was stood by watching.

I just felt that
I would be physically threatened

if I did intervene.

Intimidated,
Colm watched on in horror

as staff terrorised the patient.

After they'd cut his hair off,

they poured a bucket of cold water
over his head.

And of course,
he screamed and shouted,

"It's too cold, it's too cold!"

So then they went and got a bucket
of very, very hot water,

and then they poured that over him.

And probably even today,

thinking about that
still quite upsets me.

Colm would soon realise
that brutality was commonplace

on Dorset House in the late '70s.

He witnessed staff members assault
a defenceless patient on the floor.

A series of punches and kicks
just rained down on him.

It was just like... It was frenzied.

Absolutely frenzied.

Colm also witnessed
a psychiatric consultant

give a patient electroconvulsive
therapy to calm him,

but without anaesthetic.

There was no anaesthetist present,
and I said to the consultant,

"Why are we doing this?
Where's the anaesthetist?"

And he just looked at me
with some contempt.

And that frightened me.

So I was under no illusion

that there would be reprisals
if I was to speak out and stay there

and that those reprisals would be
almost certainly physical assault.

Fearing talking to the press would
put him directly in the firing line,

Colm took what he thought
was a low-key approach.

So, I was invited
to speak at a meeting

of the English Speaking Union
at Liverpool University.

At that meeting, it was decided
that I would speak anonymously,

so I was referred to
on the programme as Nurse X.

Colm hoped that giving a lecture
as Nurse X

well away from Broadmoor
would protect his anonymity.

But the news that Broadmoor had
a whistleblower soon reached staff,

and it wasn't long before
they put two and two together.

I knew it would be
potentially dangerous to speak out

because I was aware that a previous
nurse had made a complaint

and had subsequently tripped
at the top of a flight of stairs

and had fallen
a full length of stairs.

So I decided
that I would phone in sick.

So I rang the officer,
and he said to me just one word.

He said "chicken".

And that confirmed for me that
it would be unsafe for me to go in.

Fearing for his safety,

Colm decided to leave
his job at Broadmoor for good.

Then, a few weeks later,

Colm's revelations
were leaked to the press.

I woke one morning to a headline
in the Daily Mirror,

"Bully Boys of Broadmoor",

and it referred to Nurse X
making a speech.

So, as you'd expect,

the tabloids went with, you know,
the alliteration.

"Bully boys of Broadmoor",
"Patients zapped with electricity".

I still have no regrets.

I still believe that what I did
was the right thing to do.

But you don't know
whether all you've done

is just draw more negative attention
to the place.

Colm's concerns about this
lingered for years,

until a chance meeting.

A few years after I left Broadmoor,
I was out shopping in Liverpool,

and there was a patient
from a nearby secure hospital.

Once he realised who I was,

said to me, "You're Colm Byrne."

And he said,
"I've got so much to thank you for.

"What you said about Broadmoor,
it changed things overnight.

"The screws were so much more
careful about what they did after...

"after what you'd said."

And he shook my hand profusely.

And that was the first time, really,

that I understood that what I'd said
had made a difference.

Over 25 years
after Colm left Broadmoor,

a new approach to treating criminals
with severe personality disorders

would have Broadmoor
back in the headlines.

It was like,
"Who's running this ward?

You know, it was quite unnerving.

Incidents of inappropriate
sexual relationships

between staff and patients.

NARRATOR: In 2005,

a brand-new treatment service
was set up inside Broadmoor

for a group of criminals

who posed a particularly
serious risk to the public.

Lead clinician Professor Tony Maiden
was put in charge.

It had been labelled

as the response to dangerous men,
basically.

They were going to
treat those with dangerous

and severe personality disorder.

Built at a cost of 25 million,

Broadmoor's DSPD unit
would treat murderers

and sex offenders

who had reached the end
of their prison sentences

but were deemed too dangerous
and unwell to be released.

It was a new type of service
based on psychological treatment.

The aim was to take
the most high-risk offenders

with psychopathy, really.

I mean, hopefully, for a period
of two to three years

and to substantially reduce the risk

that they presented
of re-offending in the future.

The entry requirement
for the service was strict.

Staff would assess the men against
the Hare Psychopathy Checklist

to evaluate just how severe
their personality disorder was.

The checklist
will measure things like callousness

and lack of empathy.

If in court documents

they've expressed contempt
for the victims

and a total lack of sympathy for
the victim of a very serious crime,

then you're going to score that
person in the Psychopathy Checklist.

Once admitted, the aim,
using therapy,

was to teach these men how to
control their destructive impulses

in an environment different
to what they were used to.

What we were doing was delivering
a different type of psychotherapy.

We tried to set up a culture
which challenged this very male,

testosterone-fuelled world

that they had lived in
in the high-secure prison system.

We have a lot of female staff.

Most of our psychology staff,
most, if not all,

of our occupational therapy staff,
were women.

During therapy sessions,

staff talk to the men
about their offences

and how they could make
different choices in the future.

But there were challenges.

These are not the sort of people
who are hearing voices

or behaving in a strange manner
on a day-to-day basis.

These guys have got nothing wrong
with their ability

to draw you into
a very complicated conversation

to manipulate you and to take
advantage if they can or whatever.

Some of whom
are very good at relating

on a superficial level
can be very charming.

At the time, Neil Wheatcroft was
a nursing assistant at Broadmoor.

He was concerned about the behaviour
of some of the patients

and their influence over the staff.

When I went over there, it was like,
"Who's running this ward?"

You know, it's quite unnerving
to be...

..to have them with that much power
over the nurses.

The problem...

I would say the biggest problem
that I experienced

was incidents of inappropriate
sexual relationships

between staff and patients.

How they managed to do that

really strained my imagination
at times.

They watch, they learn,
and they listen,

and they say, "Hang on a minute,

"I might I might have a chance
with this one."

That's it. Do a little bit
of flirting, a little bit of this.

"Can you come to my room to see
this so and so and so and so?"

Erm... it's...

If... If there's some sort
of attraction, then that's it.

It doesn't take a lot.

News of one inappropriate
sexual relationship

would hit the headlines.

They do it through
seducing your staff.

This is part of the difficulty

of looking after
that group of patients.

This manipulation
that draws a member of staff

into becoming very concerned
for them

and essentially
falling in love with them.

Soon there was another controversy
in the unit

which would make front-page news.

One rapist, Lee Porritt,

proceeded to brag that he'd
blagged his way out of Broadmoor

simply by conning the authorities
at every turn.

Porritt's boasts
were secretly recorded

and published in The Sun newspaper.

"I'm a psycho rapist.
Why did Broadmoor let me go?"

He ended up back in Broadmoor
because of that.

To talk about how dangerous you are
in the newspaper,

of course, next thing,
you're back in Broadmoor!

I mean, you couldn't make it up.

But what it underlines
is the fundamental problem

in a therapeutic unit

which is also housing
dangerous criminals.

As well as press attention,

by this time, there were questions
about whether at such a high cost,

the unit could deliver
enough positive outcomes

treating this group of men.

There's some individual psychopaths
who are much more organised,

much more detached,

more callous and calculated
with their offences.

It was deemed that
that potential line of intervention

wouldn't be appropriate for them.

In 2010,
an article by a leading academic

praised DSPD units

for improving personality disorder
services in England

but questioned their effectiveness.

I don't think
that giving no treatment

to this group of people
is appropriate,

but certainly
the amount of energy and effort

that's gone into providing treatment
for this group

seems to have been
largely ineffective.

And Broadmoor's unit was proving
to be very expensive to run.

It was deemed to be,
from our point of view,

the ordinary hospital point of view,
just a waste of money.

It was expensive, it wasn't working,

it didn't fulfil the dream.

And in the wake
of the 2008 financial crash...

..its existence
was increasingly hard to defend.

Though it was praised for keeping
dangerous men off Britain's streets,

in 2012, the unit closed.

Despite this, Professor Madan
is pleased with what they achieved.

I think what happened in the end,
basically,

was that the money ran out.

Looking back on it, we definitely
had some successes with individuals.

There were a lot of other people

who I think made progress
through the system.

The downside is that
that is bought at a tremendous cost.

Outside the confines
of the DSPD unit,

on the old Victorian wings
of Broadmoor,

staff had been confronting
another problem

that was years in the making.

You come around the corner
and open the toilet door,

and there's somebody hanging,
you know, and you know that person.

You know, I remember
getting in the car thinking

that chap that the team and myself
nursed...

..the same age.

Same age.

So it makes you kind of, like,
reflect on what you've got

and what he had,

that you've done your utmost best,
but, erm...

..it's part of the job.
It's part of the job.

Things came to a head
in the years leading up to 2008...

..when the number of deaths
by suicide rose at Broadmoor.

And in fact, it had eight suicides
in that period -

more than there should have been.

It is genuinely a tragedy.

There were lots of blind spots,

ligature points where people can
suspend any sort of rope, fabric,

or whatever, and hang themselves.

There were almost invitations
to suicide.

The building itself
contributed to its reputation.

In 2010, following the suicides,

an investigation by the Care Quality
Commission raised concerns

about Broadmoor's outdated wards.

It was old-fashioned.
It was outdated.

It was draughty, cold,

not fit for modern-day medicines,
I wouldn't have thought.

The Care Quality Commission
examined Broadmoor

and came to the conclusion that
it truly wasn't fit for purpose.

Following the report,
the Department of Health approved

the complete redevelopment
of Broadmoor Hospital...

..at a cost to the taxpayer
of £250 million.

And it raised questions.

Quite natural questions.

Why are we spending large amounts
of taxpayers' money...

..on this place
for very, very dangerous men?

I know... I know, the public...

..get outraged
by the amount of money that's spent.

But I remember saying
to some people,

"What if it was your son
or daughter?"

Broadmoor creative consultant
David Neita

played a key role in the development
of the new building.

Some patients are going to be
back out in society,

living with us as our neighbours.

Shouldn't we invest everything

so that they are restored
in some way,

so that we can continue
to live in harmony?

In 2019, the new Broadmoor Hospital
finally opened.

It was all well planned out.

Cameras and mirrors so that you
could see around corners and things.

Very modern.

Obviously, it's new. Less wards.

All those things are very crucial
to somebody who's on a ward,

who's going through
mental health problems.

Four years on,

Broadmoor Hospital is no longer
considered unfit for purpose...

..and is now rated "good"
by the Care Quality Commission.

Broadmoor post-2019
is quite different,

but it's still carrying the legacy
of the old Broadmoor with it.

It'll be interesting to see
whether or not

Broadmoor's reputation changes
in the next 50 years.

You're there until it's deemed fit
that you could be released.

Some patients leave the madness
through the front door...

DISTORTED:

..whilst others choose to leave
by taking a different approach.

He just took off like a roadrunner.

The local village
went into lockdown.

Police roadblocks, helicopters,
the lot.

The whole jamboree.