Wrongfully Convicted: How a Broken System Stole 38 Years from Peter Sullivan
For nearly four decades, Peter Sullivan sat in a prison cell, convicted of a brutal murder that rocked a quiet Merseyside town. The case seemed closed: a confession, a conviction, and a life sentence. But Sullivan never stopped claiming he was innocent. As the years passed, unsettling questions emerged—was the wrong man behind bars all along? And if so, how did the justice system get it so catastrophically wrong?
A Stone of Sorrow
In the quiet town of Birkenhead, nestled on England’s Wirral Peninsula across the Mersey from Liverpool, a solemn memorial sits near the bustle of Borough Road.
The town, home to about 80,000 residents, blends maritime grit with suburban calm. Yet on this stretch of pavement, a dark piece of local history lingers in stone.
The black granite reads: “Diane Sindall: Murdered 2.8.1986 because she was a woman. We will never let it be forgotten.” But who was Diane? And why does this memorial still echo today?
A Young Woman Full of Hope
Diane Sindall was a 21-year-old woman from Birkenhead, born in 1965, with a bright future and a wedding just months away. She was young, determined, and full of plans.
To save for her upcoming marriage, Diane juggled two jobs—florist by day, barmaid by night. Her work ethic wasn’t just impressive; it was the sign of someone building a life with purpose.
But just as her future began taking shape, tragedy struck. One ordinary night turned into the unthinkable, leaving a community shaken—and a young life, full of promise, gone far too soon.
The Night It Happened
On the evening of August 1, 1986, Diane finished her barmaid shift and set off home in her van—exhausted from working both of her jobs.
Around 1:30 a.m., her van ran out of petrol near Borough Road in Birkenhead. Diane left on foot, hoping to find help in the quiet early hours.
She was never seen alive again. The next morning, August 2nd, her body was discovered nearby—a devastating blow that shattered the calm of a close-knit community.
A Community in Shock
The entire town of Birkenhead was left in shock; crimes like these were unprecedented. The brutality of the crime shook even seasoned professionals.
Fear spread quickly through the small community. Women changed routines, and families grew cautious. A local pathologist called Diane’s injuries the worst he’d seen outside a traffic accident.
This wasn’t something Birkenhead’s police were prepared for; the force had little experience with crimes of this magnitude. A storm had arrived.
A Town Gripped by Fear
Diane’s murder rattled the entire town of Birkenhead. The brutality of the attack sent a wave of fear through the community.
“Girls were afraid to be on the streets alone,” recalled former Liverpool Echo journalist John Thompson, who covered the case in 1986. The unease was palpable.
“Fathers, boyfriends, brothers, and husbands would pick women up from work,” he said, “and tell them not to leave the premises until they were right outside the door.” Thompson added, “There was real terror.”
Reclaiming the Night
Diane Sindall’s murder led to Birkenhead’s first Reclaim the Night march, a protest born from fear, outrage, and a desperate demand for change and safety.
“It was the sheer normality of it that was so scary,” said Josephine Wood of RASA Merseyside. “Any of us could’ve run out of petrol.”
With no leads and rising panic, detectives reportedly considered interviewing every man in Birkenhead. Still, the investigation stalled, and the community’s fear only deepened further.
A Name Emerges
Between midnight and 2:00 a.m. on August 2, 1986, locals in Birkenhead reported hearing screaming and the sound of a couple arguing near Borough Road.
As police scrambled to piece together what had happened, the force—unprepared for a case of this scale—began knocking on doors and chasing every possible lead, no matter how thin.
One name kept surfacing: Peter Sullivan. He wasn’t a stranger to the community, nor to local law enforcement. And soon, suspicion began to harden into something far more consequential.
The Theory Forms
At the time the crime was committed, Peter Sullivan was 29, unemployed, and known for his heavy drinking.
Witnesses claimed Sullivan had been seen that night near Bidston Hill, where some of Diane’s belongings later surfaced, fueling suspicion and giving detectives a new lead.
Police theorized Diane was heading toward an all-night garage or bus stop when Sullivan intercepted her, then dragged her into an alleyway, but had no evidence to prove it.
Mounting Pressure
The days that followed Diane Sindall’s murder were filled with tension. The police, facing public outrage, struggled to find real evidence or a clear suspect.
With little more than hearsay and theory, frustration grew. Media coverage intensified, the community demanded answers, and investigators were pressured to deliver results.
That pressure finally gave way to action. On September 23, 1986, Peter Sullivan was arrested. With no hard proof, just suspicions and a fragile theory, the wheels of injustice began to turn.
No Lawyer, No Chance
Sullivan was arrested on September 23, 1986, without a lawyer present—standard back then, but a decision that would haunt the case for decades.
During questioning, Sullivan gave conflicting accounts of his whereabouts on August 1st and 2nd. Confusion turned to suspicion, and suspicion turned into something far more serious.
Eventually, under pressure, he broke down and confessed. But that confession, built on shaky ground and circumstantial evidence, would become the foundation of a terrible mistake.
The Damage Was Done
Psychologists later described Peter Sullivan as “suggestible” with “limited intellectual capacity”—a combination that made him highly vulnerable, especially in a police interrogation room.
Initially, he denied any involvement in the attack. But after hours of questioning—alone and confused—he signed a confession. A confession he would soon regret.
Days later, once he finally had legal representation, he withdrew it. But by then, the wheels were already in motion. His words, once spoken, couldn’t be unsaid.
The Trial Begins
Peter Sullivan’s trial began in June 1987, just months after his coerced confession. By then, public opinion had already painted him guilty—a narrative too convenient to resist.
With the media stoking the image of a “Beast of Birkenhead,” few questioned the story. After all, he’d confessed—what more did they need?
But the prosecution didn’t stop there. Another piece of “evidence,” just as questionable as his confession, would soon tip the scales and seal his fate in court.
The Bite Mark Theory
Alongside Peter Sullivan’s shaky confession, prosecutors leaned heavily on another piece of evidence: bite marks found on Diane Sindall’s body, allegedly matching Sullivan’s teeth.
At the time, bite mark analysis was treated like forensic gospel. Today, it’s widely discredited—but back then, it was enough to convince a jury.
Semen samples were also collected from Diane’s body. But Merseyside Police didn’t analyze them—DNA testing wasn’t yet available to them. The truth, quite literally, sat in a freezer, ignored.
The Verdict Falls
On November 4, 1987, Peter Sullivan stood before Liverpool Crown Court, accused of murdering 21-year-old Diane Sindall. He pleaded not guilty—but it made no difference.
Judge Ernest Sanderson Temple, the Recorder of Liverpool, called the crime “an abomination and an outrage” as he handed down a life sentence with a minimum term of 16 years.
Branded by the press, Sullivan was condemned by both jury and headlines. He would spend the next 38 years insisting they got it wrong.
A Story Set in Stone
At the time of Sullivan’s conviction in 1987, many in Diane Sindall’s family were convinced justice had been served. Her father wished hanging were possible.
The media fanned the flames. One front page showed young Sullivan under the headline: “Prayer boy who became a murderer,” alongside a dramatic, four-page background spread.
But Peter’s family never wavered. Even as public opinion turned harsh and unforgiving, they stood firm, believing in his innocence when almost everyone else had already made up their minds.
Standing by Him
Following Peter’s conviction, his family issued a statement through his lawyer, Mr. Gareth Williams, expressing deep pain and unwavering belief in his innocence.
“The family wishes it to be known they are extremely distressed at the verdict,” the statement read. “They remain convinced of his innocence and will continue their efforts.”
Sullivan’s parents, Margaret and Charles, rejected the court’s conclusion. To them, the real killer was still out there—and their son had been tragically, horribly misjudged.
A Mother’s Unshaken Faith
Around the same time, his mother, Margaret Sullivan, then 49, didn’t mince words when speaking to the press. Her belief in her son was absolute.
“My son is no monstrous killer,” she said. “He is incapable of something like this, and finding him guilty makes a farce out of British justice. The whole of Birkenhead knows he is innocent.”
She added, “I am closer to Peter than anyone else in the world. If he had committed this murder, I would have known about it. Deep down, I would know—and I know he has not.” Nobody believed her.
A Father’s Belief
Charles Sullivan, Peter’s father, never wavered in his belief that his son was innocent. In 1987, at 52, he told the Liverpool ECHO just that.
“Peter does respect women, but basically he is a complete coward,” he said. “He is a very placid guy who will do anybody a good turn—really harmless.”
“If you spoke to him abruptly, he would walk away,” Charles added. “He is no one who would stand his ground or put up a fight. He is adamant he has not harmed this girl.”
Two Decades of Silence
For the next 20 years, Peter Sullivan lived behind bars—serving time in HMP Wakefield, a high-security prison nicknamed “Monster Mansion,” for a crime he didn’t commit.
Inside those walls, he endured isolation, stigma, and the weight of a label that never belonged to him. Appeals were rejected. Justice, it seemed, was out of reach.
Yet Peter never wavered. He maintained his innocence through it all. In 2008, he made his first formal request for DNA testing on the evidence. It wouldn’t be the last time he asked.
Hitting a Wall
In 2008, Sullivan made his first push for justice. He applied to the Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC), hoping DNA testing could finally clear his name.
The CCRC shut him down, claiming the chances of recovering usable DNA from the decades-old forensic samples were too slim to warrant a review of his conviction.
Undeterred, Sullivan would try time and time again, but it would take a long while before the system was ready to listen.
The Missed Review
By 2010, the Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC) began to worry—it might not be doing enough with emerging forensic science to prevent miscarriages of justice.
Victor Nealon had been convicted of attempted rape in 1997 and spent 17 years in prison. Like Peter Sullivan, he always claimed innocence—but no one listened.
In 2013, DNA testing—secured by his own legal team—proved Nealon’s innocence. The CCRC planned to review old rejected cases. But the review never happened. And Sullivan kept waiting.
Another Door Slammed Shut
In 2019, 32 years into his sentence—double the minimum term he was supposed to serve—Peter Sullivan made yet another attempt to seek justice.
He applied to the Court of Appeal, asking them to reconsider two key pieces of the case: the now-disputed bite mark evidence, and the confession extracted from him under pressure.
It took the court over two years to respond. The result? Rejected. They ruled he was out of time and claimed his arguments didn’t outweigh the broader circumstantial case. Another door slammed shut.
Hope, At Last?
In 2021, a glimmer of possibility pierced through decades of disappointment. The Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC) announced a breakthrough: the forensics were worth revisiting.
New advances in DNA technology meant the old crime scene samples could now be re-examined—something that hadn’t been possible back in the ’80s or even 2008.
Sullivan’s hopes were cautiously reignited. After years of unanswered appeals, someone was finally willing to look again. What those tests would reveal, no one yet knew.
Four More Years
In 2021, after decades of silence and rejection, Peter Sullivan finally saw a glimmer of hope. The CCRC agreed to retest the DNA evidence.
For Sullivan, locked away for 35 years, it felt like the beginning of the end—a long-awaited break in the clouds. But justice had other plans.
The tests weren’t done right away. Bureaucracy, delays, whatever the reason—it took four more years. Four more winters. Four more birthdays. Four more years stolen.
The Match That Didn’t Match
In 2023, scientists finally delivered the answer Peter Sullivan had waited decades to hear: the semen DNA profile found on Diane Sindall didn’t match his.
It was definitive. Clear. The kind of evidence that should’ve ended the nightmare right then. But even truth moves slowly through the machinery of justice.
It would take nearly two more years—two more years of stolen time—before Peter was freed. Bureaucracy delayed what DNA had already made painfully obvious. His trial came in 2025.
The Day Truth Finally Spoke
On May 13, 2025, as the Court of Appeal quashed his conviction, Peter Sullivan watched the hearing from Wakefield prison—and quietly wept, hand over mouth.
After 38 years behind bars, he became the second-longest-serving victim of wrongful imprisonment in UK history. His moment of vindication came cloaked in grief.
“I’m not angry,” he later said. “I’m not bitter.” A man robbed of nearly four decades, meeting justice not with vengeance, but with quiet, exhausted dignity.
Words of a Free Man
Just hours after the court declared him innocent, Peter Sullivan stood outside and addressed the world—not as a convict, but as a man finally heard.
“It was very wrong,” he said of his ordeal, but quickly added that the ruling “does not detract or minimise” the “heinous and most terrible loss of life.”
Even in freedom, he kept Diane Sindall at the center of the story. There was no triumph in his tone—just truth, humility, and decades of stolen time.
No Winners
Outside the courtroom, Peter Sullivan’s sister, Kim Smith, captured the bittersweet truth of the day: “No-one had won,” she said with quiet heartbreak.
“They’ve lost their daughter, they are not going to get her back. We’ve got Peter back, and now we’ve got to try and build a life around him again.”
Her words carried no celebration—just the weight of a family shattered, then slowly reassembled. “It’s such a shame this has had to happen in the first place.”
Learning to Live Again
Peter Sullivan’s brother spoke with quiet honesty about what freedom really means after 38 years: it’s not a finish line—it’s the start of another uphill battle.
Now 68, Peter would need to learn how to live again. He would be placed in a rehabilitation center to help him adjust to a world he no longer recognized.
“He had his life stolen from him,” his brother said. “The challenges he’ll face now—no compensation can fix that. You can’t refund someone’s entire life.”
A Family Reopened to Grief
When Peter Sullivan’s conviction was overturned in 2025, Diane Sindall’s family and her fiancé, David Beattie, were left reeling—not with relief, but with renewed heartbreak.
They were shocked to learn that an innocent man had spent nearly 40 years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. The grief resurfaced, now mingled with outrage.
The family is now “fully supportive” of the reopened investigation. As authorities search anew, her fiancé made it clear: they “very much want us” to find the real killer.
The Hunt Begins Again
And what about the police investigation? Well, in 2023, when the new DNA profile was confirmed, Merseyside Police didn’t wait for Peter Sullivan’s appeal to conclude; they immediately reopened Diane’s case.
Since then, over 200 individuals from police records have been tested, including relatives of Diane and her fiancé, in hopes of narrowing the search. No match so far.
Authorities believe only one man committed the crime. Which means, after nearly four decades, the person who killed Diane Sindall could still be out there—free.
A Bleak Acknowledgement
After the Court of Appeal overturned Peter Sullivan’s conviction, official agencies were forced to confront the damage. The words they chose were careful—almost painfully so.
Nick Price, director of legal services at the CPS, said: “We recognise the enormous impact this conviction has had on Peter Sullivan’s life…”
He added, “The prosecution case was brought on the basis of all the evidence available to us at the time.” But for Sullivan, the cost was a life half-lived—irreparably.
The Outrage That Followed
When Peter Sullivan’s conviction was overturned, the public reaction wasn’t just sympathy—it was outrage. How could the DNA have been there for years and never used?
Critics quickly pointed to his 2019 appeal, which was dismissed—despite the existence of untested forensic evidence. By the time the DNA was finally examined in 2021, decades had already been lost.
For many, it was the last straw. The fact that this evidence had been ignored for so long raised serious questions about the UK’s justice system—and calls for a complete overhaul.
Justice Delayed
Diane Sindall’s killer is still out there, probably enjoying brunch. Meanwhile, justice has been ghosting her case for decades without leaving even a courtesy note.
The wrong man paid the price, while the real murderer vanished like a magician at a crime scene. Closure? Still pending, indefinitely.
Yet hope lingers—flimsy, stubborn hope that someday truth knocks loudly and justice finally decides to show up with cuffs and a long-overdue apology.
Forty Years Late and a Freedom Short
Peter Sullivan lost almos 40 years to a prison sentence he didn’t earn. That’s four decades of birthdays, holidays, and freedom shoved into a black hole.
Now he’s out, dazed but not destroyed, stepping into a world that sprinted past him like it had somewhere better to be.
Surrounded by loyal supporters, he’s cautiously rebuilding. It’s not revenge, but it’s redemption—and hopefully, a life with more peace and fewer bars.
