Chris Foster, The Millionaire in So Much Debt, He Committed Familicide

The story of Chris Foster, the man who committed familicide rather than face the bailiffs

One of the most unsettling crimes you’ll ever read about; on the 26th of August 2008, Chris Foster murdered his wife and teenage daughter and set his house on fire before killing himself.

What went so wrong for the once-successful millionaire that he killed his family? Was he evil, or is our obsession with money the true root of this sad saga?

It was in Maesbrook village this tale unfolded, a tranquil, richly green locale in England where city slickers who make their fortunes on the mean streets of Birmingham retreat to enjoy the fruits of their labours. Expensive cars and grand houses are everywhere in this well-to-do Shropshire village, as a result.

Into this environment Chris Foster, with his wife Jill and daughter Kirstie, fitted right in.

Ulvashield – Chris’s Eureka Invention

Chris had been an ordinary salesman from Burnley until he had a eureka moment in 1988.

Inspired by the Piper Alpha oil rig explosion of that year, Chris seized upon an idea to invent a new oil rig sealant. By 1996 he had invented and patented a product he called ‘Ulvashield’ complete with a five-star safety rating.

Orders began pouring in and the fortunes of Chris’s newly formed company skyrocketed. Flush with success, it wasn’t long before he started living and dressing like the millionaire he’d become.

Millionaire Businessman

And he was clearly a very materialistic man. Chris dressed well and liked nice holidays. Soon after moving his family into the village, a fleet of cars came through the gateway of his new home, Osbaston House — Porcshes, an Aston Martin, and a 4X4 for Jill.

He bought horses for Kirstie and spent hundreds of thousands of pounds on a gun collection which he loved to shoot as an avid member of the local shooting club.

He always looked the part; a flash, successful millionaire.

But that was the first nail in his coffin; Chris spent money like it would never run out… Except soon it did.

Although the man was clearly smart in that he had invented a great product, that didn’t make him a great businessman. A judge later described Christopher as “bereft of the basic instincts of commercial morality” and “not to be trusted”.

Chris’s Downfall

Despite appearances, Chris couldn’t afford his lavish lifestyle and his financial struggles were causing untold stress (caledoniankitty.co.uk)

By 2005, Chris’s extravagant lifestyle had outstripped his earnings and he had racked up debts of £2.8 million.

To maintain his non-stop splurging Chris was happy to cut a few corners; he breached the contract he had with the suppliers of Ulvashield by finding a new, cheaper supplier. But the manufacturers took legal action against him for damages, and the wheels of his downfall were set in motion.

By 2007, his company was liquidated.

It’s unclear how much his family knew about their circumstances now that Chris had no income, but friends remained completely in the dark whilst the man kept up a façade of affluence, continuing with social gatherings and bragging to friends that he had a multi-million-pound business deal in the pipeline.

Behind Chris’s big smile and warm handshake, however, his mind entered a dark, dark place. Now that he had no business to attend to only his 15-acre property could occupy his time. Chris pottered around, keeping the grounds of his house immaculate, even moving his tractor from spot to spot such was his restlessness.

As he tinkered away, his thoughts dwelled increasingly on his predicament and his fears of the unbearable shame that would come once the stark truth of his failings was exposed. The Summer of 2008 had been exceptionally wet and grey. One imagines it did nothing to keep the dark clouds off his mind.

It’s likely Chris started to plan his end, and that of his wife and daughter’s, as that bleak Summer waned with the coming of August. Chris by now had no less than 20 bank accounts overdrawn and didn’t even own his home anymore.

Then the day came he’d been dreading; the housekeeper he still employed found a letter attached to the gate. It was from the bailiffs informing him that they were coming to repossess all his possessions within a week. She later recalled how Chris had looked distressed but said nothing.

The Murders

Relaxed and smiling: Chris, Jill and Kirstie on their last day alive (telegraph.co.uk)

On the day this sad saga ended the Fosters were invited to a friend’s barbeque and clay pigeon shoot. Chris spent his last day on earth enjoying the hobby he loved.

It’s chilling to note that none of the guests that night noticed any red flags with Chris, who seemed in particularly good spirits. It is a paradox that a suicidal person can be the happiest they have been in a long time knowing the end is nigh. A photo of the family shows all three smiling at the camera and looking relaxed.

One can only wonder what the mood amongst the Fosters was like that night, on the drive home, and getting ready for bed.

Was Chris quiet or chatty? Did Jill and Kirsty detect an air that something was off? Was there an air of foreboding?

Around 11.30pm Chris told his daughter to go to bed.

Around 3am Chris, 50 years old, shot his wife Jill, 49, in the back of the head. He then went into his daughter’s room and shot Kirstie, 15, in the back of the head too.

He went on to kill all the family pets; the four dogs, three horses; even the ducks and chickens.

Chris then doused the house, the stables and his cars in heating oil to set them alight.

He also made sure to block the driveway with a horsebox and shoot out the tires in order to prevent first responders from quickly extinguishing the fire. The man was so bitter he wanted his creditors, the people who’d supposedly put him in this predicament, to get absolutely nothing out of him.

As the fire took hold, it filled the house with smoke and Chris went to rejoin his wife. He succumbed to smoke inhalation.

It took three days for firefighters to extinguish the fire and allow the investigators to begin their grim task of sifting through the mangled wreckage of Chris Foster’s life.

Is ‘Money Evil’ …or Was Chris?

The chilling tragedy shocked the nation and commentators inevitably tried to make sense of what had happened.

A once successful man was so ashamed of his business failings, he destroyed everything he loved and owned before ending his life. Why?

In the days after, amongst the cards and flowers left by the gateway was a note saying ‘Money is the root to all evil.’

It seemed to sum up the sentiments of many bereaved. Here was an average man who achieved something special; he invented something so great it made him a millionaire, and he shouldn’t have had to worry about money ever again.

Yet instead, it hooked him onto the vice-like trappings of materialism and vanity. Marketing and media make us covet fast cars, swanky clothes and everything else in between, so once Chris got a taste of the good life he was addicted like a heroin addict no matter how much debt he got into, until his creditors hounded him into a corner he couldn’t escape.

Chris appeared to be a loving father and husband, and one friend described him as ‘down to earth’, ‘open’ and ‘warm’. Yet, was he such a nice guy?

Many described Chris as ‘warm’ and ‘friendly’. Yet, others who knew him better called him a ‘narcissist’ and ‘highly controlling’ (mirror.co.uk)

Well, Chris was described by others variously as a ‘schoolboy bully’ a ‘narcissist’ and ‘highly controlling’ who was known to have hit his wife at least once. Some commentators suggested Chris’s murder spree was the last act of control over his family, to deny them a future free of his domination.

Whatever the truth, the sad Foster family saga is testament to Capitalism’s fickle fortunes and reminds us of the maxim: ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall’.

Chris Foster, the big man with a big smile, fell very hard indeed.

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Lundy – The English Island Home to Pirates, Corsairs and Rebels

The tiny isle of Lundy has sheltered rebels, eccentrics and even a band of Barbary pirates. This is the story of Lundy’s rich history.

Map showing Lundy to the south of the busy Bristol Channel (en.wikipedia.org)

Lundy seems an innocuous island; sitting just 10 nautical miles (19km) off the Devon coastline, it’s a mere three miles (5km) long by 1/2 mile (1km) wide, and home to just 28 islanders.

You could say it’s a place coveted much more than it can cater for, being strategically well placed yet barren and too small for any community to grow and prosper. Many have come and gone thus, and virtually every period of British history has left a mark on this speck of rock.

Ancient History

Evidence of human habitation goes a far back as the late Stone Age, with Bronze Age burial mounds.

A cemetery was later uncovered dating from the 5th-6th Century AD. Interestingly, it included four gravestones with Latin and Celtic inscriptions alternatively.

The Vikings gave Lundy its name, meaning ‘Puffin Island’; named after the distinctly black and white seabirds with brightly coloured bills that once crowded the granite island.

No doubt those Norse raiders, who plundered and pillaged and marauded the coasts of northern Europe during the centuries when the light of civilisation was dim, came to regard the steep-sided isle with fondness for it served as a fantastic launching off point for raids on the nearby British coastline for which the Vikings were notorious.

The Marisco Family

The stout but cute Marisco Castle (ecastles.co.uk)

Lundy’s written history only began after the Norman Conquest, and with it, a long association with de Marisco family began. The Marisco family history is shrouded by the depths of time akin to how fog often shrouds Lundy from the English coast.

They were a noble family held in high esteem in the Norman king’s court at first, but their fortunes ebbed over hundreds of years until they were but mere yeomanry.

King Henry II granted the island to the Knights Templar in 1160, the Templars being a major maritime power for a while. Yet the Marisco family got in there first. It seems the Mariscos held a claim to the throne because a family member was the bastard offspring of the royal line; they wouldn’t kowtow to the king.

In 1235 William de Marisco murdered a King’s messenger, then later an assassin tried to kill King Henry III and he confessed to being sent by William. The rebel fled to Lundy, built a lightweight castle, and from there ruled the land like his own little realm.

His family turned to piracy, preying on shipping along the busy Bristol Channel trade routes.

Finally, Henry III sent troops to invade Lundy and William and 16 of his ‘subjects’ were captured.

William was hung, drawn and quartered for his treason and the king built another fortress of his own to secure the island.

Thomas, 2nd Earl of Lancaster, another rebel, would later possess Lundy until the King of England again seized the island in 1322.

A Pirates’ Den

Popular depictions of pirates are those in the Caribbean during the 18th and 19th Centuries. And many might think of England as this traditionally strong naval power that ruled the seven seas since time immemorial.

But the fact is England was basically a backwater European power until the Spanish Armada was destroyed in 1588, and pirates infested the British coastline throughout the medieval age. For instance, there was the great Cornish Killigrew family who served as governors, MPs and notorious pirates throughout the 15th and 16th centuries.

Over the next few centuries Lundy harboured pirates both foreign and British, including other Marisco family members. The port of Bristol was an up-and-coming trade hub and ships sailing to and from often had to pass close by Lundy at low tide which made them easy pickings for British, French, and Spanish pirates, and Lundy served as excellent a forward operating base for medieval pirates as it had for the Vikings.

There were pirates of a different kind too.

The Barbary pirates of North Africa plagued Mediterranean Christendom by enslaving its peoples with coastline raids, and attacks on Christian shipping.

Barbary pirates were based on Lundy for five years whilst they prowled the British Isles for Christian slaves to sell in N. Africa’s slave markets (en.wikipedia.org)

Barbary pirates became increasingly bold, and they began to venture beyond the Mediterranean environs.

Incredibly, these N. Africans would voyage as far north as the waters around Britain, Ireland, and even Iceland.

Sometimes whole town populations were carried off to be sold in the slave markets of the Ottoman Empire.

In 1627 a group known as the Salé Rovers arrived at Lundy from modern-day Algeria. These Barbary pirates under the command of a Dutch renegade named Jan Janszoon flew an Ottoman flag over the island that was a virtual stone’s throw away from England – the nation that would come to rule the seven seas within two centuries.

Slaving raids would be launched from Lundy and captured Europeans were held there before being sent to Algiers to be sold. These rovers maintained their little Barbary realm for five years.

The island got the occasional visit from sea raiders even as late as the 1700s.

The Kingdom of Heaven

Lundy’s residents continued to live outside of the law as Britain came into the modern era.

Thomas Benson, the Sheriff of Devon, diverted convicts who were supposed to be deported to Virginia to Lundy instead in order to build a cave that Benson used to hide stores as part of an insurance swindle.

In 1802 Lundy’s next owner was an eccentric Irish nobleman, Sir Vere Hunt, 1st Baronet of Curragh, who tried to establish an Irish colony on the island, complete with its own constitution, divorce laws, coinage and stamps. It failed however because the island’s topography was little good for a self-sustaining community to thrive on.

By 1834 the island changed hands yet again when William Hudson Heaven purchased it for just under £10,000. Heaven claimed it to be a ‘free island’, and successfully resisted the jurisdiction of the mainland magistrates. He built a church, a villa named Millcombe House and a road, but these building projects almost bankrupted him.

A puffin coin minted in 1929, equivalent to a British penny (en.numista.com)

Yet the Heaven family remained for two more generations, minting its own ‘puffin’ coinage. (which the House of Lords fined them £5 for …not to be paid in puffins.)

They eventually sold up in 1968 after much financial hardship suffered over the decades.

Eventually, the National Trust acquired Lundy and it manages the isle to this day.

Shipwrecks and Lighthouses

It’s perhaps no surprise that more than one ship has been wrecked by Lundy’s granite rocks over the years.

At the end of a long voyage from Africa, though not carrying slaves, a ship named the Jenny was only hours from reaching Bristol port when she crashed onto Lundy’s coast in 1797. All hands were lost, save the First Mate and the site of the tragedy is known as ‘Jenny’s Cove’.

In 1906 a Duncan class pre-dreadnought Battleship HMS Montagu ran aground. The ship’s crew believed they were actually on the mainland until a lighthouse keeper informed them otherwise. Strenuous efforts by the Royal Navy to salvage the badly damaged battleship during the summer of 1906 failed, so they gave up and sold her for scrap.

Two German Heinkel He 111 bombers crash-landed on the island in 1941 in separate incidents, and remains of one of the aircraft remain.

The island’s first lighthouse was built 10 years before Jenny’s tragic demise, and two lighthouses replaced that one in 1897.

Island Getaway

Lundy today; the Lundy Tavern with St Helen’s Church behind (inews.co.uk)

Today, Lundy is home to a large, varied bird population, plus Sika deer, grey seals, black rats and even its own horse breed.

Lundy also attracts thousands of visitors every year, with its own pub and holiday huts for overnight visitors. It is popular with birdwatchers and rock climbers, having the UK’s longest continuous slab climb, ‘The Devil’s Slide’.

In a 2005 opinion poll of Radio Times readers, Lundy was named as Britain’s tenth greatest natural wonder.

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