Sure I planned the thing... Why not? It's every mans dream, isn't it, to skin the bookies?

From Brian Radford’s book "Taken For A Ride"

The story of the Gay Future Affair

In the summer of 1974, a handful of sporting Irishmen carried out an ingenious scheme to relieve English and Irish bookmakers of a massive £300,000, by placing multiple bets on three horses when they knew that only one would run. It was to be the perfect 'sting'… One glorious chance to take the bookies for a very expensive ride. The basic idea was simple, but both the planning and the execution of the biggest attempted coup in racing history were absolutely brilliant. Chief organizer was Cork millionaire Tony Murphy, a man who had gained a considerable reputation as a fearless punter and the owner of several successful racehorses. One person was so impressed with his record that he actually named a steeplechaser after him. Tony Dickinson trained it for a season in Lancashire, but it turned out to be so slow that he sent it back in disgrace. Tony Murphy himself was far from lethargic. In mental agility he had few equals. He was a bright, intuitive, convivial man who had a Midas touch for turning pennies into pounds.

The plan was to take advantage of a race meeting where there was no Blower service in operation. It was first conceived over pints of stout in the back-room bar of a pub in Galway on the West Coast of Ireland one rainy day in August 1973. The races were over and William Anthony Murphy, a father of seven, turned to his pals and announced, 'I've worked out a way to win a fortune.' It was a simple scheme to play the bookmakers at their own game. Murphy's plan was firstly to find two horses — one good, one bad. Next, he would need to find a trainer over the water in England who would take the bad horse. Finally, he would need a Bank Holiday race meeting sufficiently obscure for the attention of the big boys to be concentrated elsewhere.

Yet even Murphy, with all his intrepid adventures, decided that this was one job that should be thoroughly tested before setting out for the big prize. So, on Easter Monday 1974, Murphy and his men arranged that a non-runner should be coupled in bets with a horse called Hindsight at a National Hunt meeting at Towcester in Northamptonshire. The test was a flop, superficially at least, for the horse finished fourth, and the conspirators lost six thousand pounds. But these were patient men, and they were not dismayed by the set-back. The test had taught them valuable lessons. The six-man syndicate pushed on buoyantly.

Their next move was to pay out five thousand pounds for a four-year-old chestnut gelding called Gay Future. They put him in training with the established and capable Eddie O'Grady at Ballynonty in Co. Tipperary. The horse had never run in Britain, but had won a Flat race for amateur riders at Thurles. At the time the plotters were buying Gay Future, they were preparing to ship another chestnut gelding, masquerading as Gay Future, across the sea to England. On 29 July 1974, a horsebox carrying the bogus horse left Dublin consigned for the seaside town of Troon in Ayrshire. It was heading for the small, little-known stables of Scottish trainer Tony Collins, an Old Harrovian and stockbroker.

The documents showed that the horse was Gay Future, and the letters G.F. were printed on his rug. In fact, the horse was a nothing. By Arctic Chevalier out of Madria Fox, it was unnamed and unraced. The bogus horse arrived with Collins a month before the intended coup. This was essential, because Jockey Club rules stipulate that a horse must be kept on a trainer's premises for at least twenty-eight days before it may race for him. Collins, in the meantime, had entered the real Gay Future to run in a novice hurdle race on Bank Holiday Monday, 26 August, at little Cartmel, a Grade Four track in the heart of Cumbria. Cartmel was deliberately chosen because it was well off the beaten track, had no Blower service, and generally attracted the country's worst runners.

While the bogus horse continued to graze and grow fat in the Highlands of Scotland, the real Gay Future was reaching his peak with O'Grady in Ireland. At this stage, everything was going like clockwork. A bogus horse jumping badly over logs placed on oil drums at the Collins stable, and an engagement at a Bank Holiday meeting at a racecourse with no Blower. Up to the time of the race, the public were to be told the jockey was a Mr J. (Jimmy) McNeill, a Scottish factory worker and amateur rider. The syndicate were well set for their plunge. If the coup were to succeed, it was essential that no one, least of all bookmakers and touts, should know that the real Gay Future was being trained to extreme fitness in Ireland, or the starting-price would drop dramatically before the race.

The next move was to bring the real Gay Future across from the O'Grady stable. The horse was again consigned to Collins, but this time unnamed. Driving the horsebox was Chris Hall, one of O'Grady's employees. Looking after the horse was Tim 'Micky' Finn, a top lad with O'Grady and an expert horse-handler. The box docked at Liverpool early on 24 August. It then made its way up the M6 and turned down a lane near Kendal in Cumbria, stopping by arrangement at a telephone box. Waiting there in the shadows was Collins's jockey and stableman Ian McAllan. An empty Collins horsebox was parked nearby, and Gay Future was transferred into it. Soon after-wards Gay Future arrived at Cartmel racecourse, some fifteen miles away, as though it had just been driven from Troon.

The switch had been made. All was ready. The real Gay Future was locked in the racecourse stables overnight while the bogus horse was driven back to Troon. Still taking no chances, Gay Future was given a final test gallop at the racecourse at six o'clock on the morning of the race. He was adjudged fit and sure to win. A report of the gallop was telephoned to the syndicate and operation 'Crock of Gold', as Murphy called it, was reaching its conclusion. 'Gay Future' was entered to run in the 4.20 Ulverston Novices Hurdle, and was listed in the Racing Calendar and on the racecard as being trained by Mr A. Collins, of Troon. Collins had bought Gay Future from O'Grady for £4,750, although no money changed hands at the time. Tim Jones, the regular rider of Gay Future in Ireland, also made the trip. It had been arranged that he should replace the seven-pound claimer, Jimmy McNeill, who was shown in the morning papers as Gay Future's partner.

To pull off a coup of this size, Murphy knew it was essential that the horse should start at attractive odds. So, to confuse the public even more, the plotters arranged for soapflakes to be rubbed over the horse's flanks and down his legs. This created a massive white lather and gave the impression that the horse was sweating badly, which of course frightened off any punter who might have thought of betting on it. While the horse dripped with soap suds, men connected with the coup raced around the betting ring deliberately supporting other horses, in order to cut their odds and to make sure that Gay Future ended up at a big price. When the race began, Gay Future was showing at 10-I on all the boards. But the success of this operation still depended on how well the bets could be placed in shops far away from the racecourse.

In order to conceal Gay Future as the 'job' horse, the syndicate had decided that Collins should also enter two other horses in separate races that day - Ankerwyke in the 4.15 event at Southwell, and Opera Cloak in the 4.30 at Plumpton, two more racecourses where the Blower service was not in use. Ankerwyke was making his debut over hurdles. He was last seen in public on the Flat a year earlier. The horse had appalling form. Opera Cloak's ability was little better. His only worthwhile show the previous season was when he finished a five-length second in a novice chase at Ayr. Later, he was well beaten in several novice events, jumping poorly almost every time. Collins himself hadn't trained a winner since a hunter-chaser of his called Jungle won at Doncaster in February 1973. It was agreed that syndicate members should place bets of five, ten and fifteen pounds on Gay Future, both on its own and in doubles and trebles with the other two horses. In this way, bookmakers would be less likely to suspect that something odd was going on. Opera Cloak and Ankerwyke were entered to run simply as a blind. Neither horse left the Collins stable, although jockeys Gerry Griffin and Paul Kelleway were contacted about taking the rides. As a result, with both horses ruled out as non-runners, all the double and treble bets would automatically become single wagers on Gay Future.

Early on the day of the race Murphy and his men boarded an Aer Lingus flight from Dublin to London, and six men, each with about six thousand pounds and using an A-to-Z London street directory, toured the betting-offices in a fleet of Daimlers, spreading their investments. All seemed to be working well at this stage, but the big bookmaking companies have an uncanny sixth sense for detecting when they are being lined up for a stroke. By midday, their bloodhounds were on the scent. The vast number of wagers on Gay Future, Ankerwyke and Opera Cloak had aroused suspicion. Also two of the team had accidentally crossed paths... both Irish, both swaggering into the same betting office, both with the same bets.

With twelve Bank Holiday meetings taking place, the large betting companies were not represented at any of the small National Hunt courses - and time was running out. At 12.30, most of the big companies brought down the shutters on Murphy and his men, and Ladbrokes frantically despatched representatives to Southwell and Plumpton with open cheques to bet the horse that ran and to make sure its starting price was cut to nothing. It was around 3.15 before either man got to the course, and they learned straight away that neither Opera Cloak nor Ankerwyke would be running. Ladbrokes even tried to get a man to Cartmel, but the track was so remote that the race was already over when he sprinted through the gates. By the time the shutters came down, Murphy and his associates had managed to invest little more than five thousand pounds of their intended thirty thousand pound blitz. Undaunted, Murphy returned to his London hotel and fell asleep while the race took place. He woke at five o'clock and telephoned a contact in Dublin who gave him the great news that Gay Future had won by fifteen lengths at 10-1. Without delay he ordered a crate of best champagne and prepared to celebrate his stupendous stroke. Although the party went on as planned, the bubbly lost some of its sparkle when an early-morning paper announced that the bookmakers were refusing to pay out until the police had investigated all the circumstances surrounding the race.

Many top racing people condemned this as a laughable contradiction by bookmakers, who after all manipulate, inflate, and deflate prices every day to protect their own vast financial interests. If their representative had succeeded in reaching Cartmel in time, there is little doubt that Gay Future would have ended up closer to 2-1 favourite than a juicy 10-1 long-shot. Some smaller firms were not bothered by the result and paid up without question. The syndicate eventually collected £15,000 for all their efforts, but they left behind winnings amounting to £40,000. This was made up of £10,000 with Ladbrokes; £5,322 with Hills; £14,946 with Mecca; £4,056 with Corals; and £3,509 with Mark Lane. None of these prodigious winnings were ever released, and stakes of almost four thousand pounds were not returned. When the syndicate finally examined their accounts, they found that after hefty expenses, their profit was little more than a miserable ten thousand pounds.

When The Sporting Life telephoned the Collins stable, Mrs Collins assured them that Gay Future had been difficult to school over hurdles and that Tim Jones had been brought over to provide advice. She said her husband was at Plumpton where, in fact, he had told the stewards that Opera Cloak would not be running because his horsebox had broken down. In the meantime, Collins had given the same reason, by telephone, for Ankerwyke's absence at Southwell. The Plumpton stewards were foxed completely, and because they felt Collins had suffered enough already, they agreed not to impose the usual twenty five pound fine. But the Collins luck couldn't last forever.

The meeting's senior steward, Major Derek Wigan, was informed that a betting coup had been attempted. Wigan instantly reported the matter to Brigadier Henry Green, director of Racecourse Security Services and to the Jockey Club. Reacting with their customary speed, the major bookmakers announced, through their national organization BOLA (Betting Office Licensees Association) that they would not be paying out on the Gay Future result until the circumstances were fully investigated. The Southwell stewards held an immediate inquiry, and after interviewing Gerry Griffin, who was shown in most newspapers as Ankerwyke's intended rider, course director John Levy referred the matter to the stewards of the Jockey Club.

Brigadier Green had already spoken to Paul Kelleway, who had been shown in the newspapers as the rider of the absent Opera Cloak. Kelleway told Green that he had received a telephone call on the evening before the race from someone who gave his name as Tony Collins. The caller had said there had been a mix-up and, although he would be shown as the rider of Opera Cloak in the newspapers, he 'should not worry'. Within days the police were approached with a view to a full-scale inquiry. Collins also crept from his shell, and in a statement to the Press Association he insisted: 'I telephoned the Jockey Club this morning and a meeting was held with their security department regarding events connected with Gay Future winning at Cartmel. I understand the person who arranged the placing of the bets has named himself to the Jockey Club and has informed them in writing that I was not involved in the betting operation.' Almost before Collins had time to put the telephone down, Scotland Yard announced that two detectives from the Serious Crimes Squad were being given the job of investigating allegations of frauds regarding Gay Future. Detective Chief Superintendent Terry O'Connell and his assistant Detective Inspector George Dent were put in charge of the case. It was arranged that they should work closely with the Cumbria Constabulary, in whose area the race took place.

Harmony among the bookmakers didn't last for long, and Heathorns rapidly abandoned the BOLA policy and decided to pay out on all bets concerning Gay Future. Managing director Michael Simmonds, who was also a member of the BOLA committee, said he did not feel the irregularities were enough to withhold payment any longer. Heathorns felt the bookmaking image had been badly damaged by BOLA'S decision to involve the police and refuse to pay out. Their forthright spokesman Alan Kinghorn argued: 'If the horse had lost, no money would have been refunded, and nothing would have been said. It makes us look mean.' The Tote and the Billy McMahon Group, together with six other betting-offices in London, also agreed to pay up in the usual way. At this point, it was still not clear who had masterminded the plot, but then Murphy decided the guessing had to stop and willingly admitted that he was the ace in the pack.

Police investigations intensified immediately, and on 12 March 1975 the irrepressible Murphy and trainer O'Grady, together with fellow Irishmen John Horgan and Brian Darrer, were all jointly charged at a special court in Ulverston with 'conspiring with others to defraud bookmakers by attempting to win by means of fraud and ill-practice multi and single wagers made by them or on their behalf on Gay Future, Ankerwyke and Opera Cloak'. All four had been arrested at Cheltenham racecourse, where they had gathered to watch the festival meeting. Murphy, Horgan and Darrer were all remanded on bail of twenty thousand pounds, and O'Grady on bail of fifteen thousand pounds. The very next morning, Collins was taken before the same Ulverston magistrates, accused of plotting to cheat bookmakers, and was remanded on bail of five thousand pounds. Scotland Yard were still not satisfied that they had seized everyone connected with the coup, and spread their net even wider to cover every inch of Ireland. They applied for the extradition of Patrick O'Leary, Michael Rose, and police superintendent Joseph McMahon, all from Cork, and all charged with conspiring with others to defraud bookmakers. The Cork district court, however, rejected the application, because no particulars of fraud or ill-practice were set out in the warrants.

The five men already on bail appeared before the Ulverston magistrates again on 29 May, and Superintendent O'Connell told the court that the prosecution would be ready for committal proceedings by 8 July. All five men - Murphy, O'Grady, Darrer, Horgan and Collins - were released on bail totalling a massive £180,000. Strenuous efforts were still being made to extradite McMahon, O'Leary and Rose, but on 18 December a Dublin High Court judge endorsed the decision of the Cork court, and ruled that these three men should not be sent over to face the charges. While this legal wrangling was going on, Gay Future, the centrepiece of the whole plot, was sold to bookmaker John Banks for a reported nine thousand pounds. The horse was then syndicated for eleven thousand guineas, with Banks keeping one of the twelve shares. Soon afterwards, while racing at Wetherby, Gay Future broke his neck and died ingloriously alongside a hurdle far out in the country. On 18 September 1975 Darrer was cleared by the magistrates at Ulverston of all charges against him. The other four men - Murphy, Collins, O'Grady and Horgan - were all committed for trial, on bail totalling sixty thousand pounds, accused of conspiracy. They were ordered to appear at Preston Crown Court on 4 February, and all the complicated preliminaries seemed well-past at last - until yet another unexpected obstacle suddenly cropped up to hinder the progress.

Just a week before the case was due to open, it was reported that the Irish Turf Club had granted a work permit to stable lad Ian McAllan, a member of Collins's staff at the time of the coup. Scotland Yard and the Jockey Club were incensed. McAllan was considered a key witness, but was now stubbornly saying that he would not attend the trial. He was living in Dundalk and working for trainer Bunny Cox. While the battle to bring McAllan to court continued to rage in the wings, the spotlight was finally focused on the stage for the dramatic opening of the case. The first act began sensationally. Two of the principals were cleared immediately and walked away, beaming and relieved. The prosecution offered no evidence against O'Grady, or against Horgan, the 37-year-old cattle dealer from Cork. Collins and Murphy were left to face the charges and both pleaded not guilty.

In opening the case for the prosecution, Mr Ivor Taylor QC alleged that Murphy and Collins knew that Opera Cloak and Ankerwyke would not run, and because of this they had deliberately created an artificial price for Gay Future. Mr Taylor said that Murphy had predicted that those taking part in the coup would win something in the region of three hundred thousand pounds. There was no Blower, and no other way of communicating with Cartmel, so on-course bookmakers would never know of the large amounts of money being placed in the betting offices. It was at about 12.30 on the day of the race that a William Hill official realized that a coup was taking place, and the firm instantly stopped accepting bets on all three horses. Mr Taylor conceded that the prosecution were not suggesting there was anything wrong in a punter taking advantage of information and doing his best to beat the book-makers. What the Crown objected to was the setting up of a charade to let bookmakers believe that three horses were running when it was never intended that more than one should run.

Mr Taylor reminded the court that Murphy had admitted using a hundred men to place the bets all over England and Ireland, and that five other front-line men had helped him carry out the coup. The jury were told that on the day after the race, a number of police officers went to a London hotel in the course of their inquiries into bombing incidents. In the lounge they met a group of Irishmen who were in company with Murphy and Collins. The conversation centred on a betting coup and the placing of numerous wagers in offices in London. Referring to a statement made by Collins to Superintendent O'Connell, Mr Taylor alleged that when Collins was asked whether he had intended that Ankerwyke and Opera Cloak should run, the Troon trainer had replied, 'To be truthful, no.' He had added: 'I agree I was party to that coup, but I don't think I acted fraudulently.' Collins stated that in May 1974 O'Grady asked him if he would like to buy a horse. A deal was eventually completed and Collins learned that the horse was Gay Future. The statement went on to reveal that O'Grady suggested to Collins that he should enter the horse at Cartmel, and that he said there was a betting interest in the horse. It was the prosecution's case that the public were not aware that O'Grady was the real trainer of the horse. Later in his statement, Collins said that he telephoned Kelleway to tell him he would not be needed for Opera Cloak, and left a similar message for Griffin regarding Ankerwyke. 'When I entered those two horses it was never intended that they should run,' admitted Collins. 'I was acting on instructions from O'Grady.'

When Collins heard that Gay Future had won, he headed straight for a pre-arranged rendezvous in a London hotel with Murphy. He had no idea of what the Irishman looked like, but he found him without trouble alongside a group of other men toasting themselves in a reservoir of champagne. When interviewed by police officers, Collins told them: 'I felt I was being used by the Irish syndicate. I knew there was a coup, but it didn't start from me.' John Harrington, a trainer, and a director of the Curragh Bloodstock Agency, told the jury that he had once owned Gay Future, and in July 1974 had sold him for about five thousand pounds. He believed O'Grady was the buyer, but later discovered that he was shipping the horse to Collins. Referring to the bets on the horse, Harrington said that all the bookmakers in Ireland had paid out on the win. 'Racing men in Ireland are still talking about the Gay Future affair - laughing about it,' he said. Angela Mulhearn, a former stable girl at the Collins yard, gave evidence that, on the day of the Cartmel race, she went in an Irish horsebox with an Irish driver to pick up two horses from a farm near Girvan, a hamlet in Ayrshire. These horses were Ankerwyke and Opera Cloak. They were out to grass and obviously not fit for racing. They were driven back to the Collins stable and put in boxes on Collins's instructions. Later on, Mrs Collins telephoned to say that Gay Future had won, but there was no mention of any horsebox breaking down. Miss Mulhearn said that Gay Future left the Collins premises on the day after the race. He went in a horsebox driven by an Irishman, and she never saw him again.

Collins made his first appearance in the witness box on the fourth day. He agreed that he had not wanted the bookmakers or members of the public to know that Gay Future had come over from Ireland especially to run at Cartmel. He said he had two personal bets of twenty five pounds on Gay Future in addition to the money he sent O'Grady in Ireland, making a total of £184. The ebullient Murphy then walked briskly into the witness box, and in answer to his counsel on whether he regarded himself as taking part in a stroke of genius or in something criminal, he replied, 'A stroke of genius, sir.' He did not regard himself as a villain, or what he did as dishonest.

Murphy recalled an attempted coup at Easter when he had arranged for a horse to be sent from Ireland to race in England, and for its form to be kept as quiet as possible. Hindsight was entered at Towcester, and another jumper, Golden Lancer, was entered at Carlisle. No trainer was listed alongside Hindsight, but the owner was named as a Mr A. Geraghty. Golden Lancer was shown as being owned by Darrer and trained by O'Grady. It was planned that the money should be placed on Hindsight, as Murphy and his friends knew that Golden Lancer would not run. The coup flopped, with Hindsight finishing fourth. Murphy said there were no complaints from bookmakers on that occasion. A fortnight later, Hindsight reappeared at Punchestown and won by six lengths at 12-1.

After Towcester, he had begun planting the seeds for the bigger and better harvest at Cartmel. Gay Future was bought, and six people, including Murphy, joined in - each partner taking a one thousand pound share, and two others a half-share each. To organize the coup, they flew over to London and linked up with a certain Robert Henry, who was put in charge of betting. He had flown over earlier and marked out betting offices on an A-to-Z street map. Asked by Mr Taylor if it were clear that Collins was not the owner of Gay Future when it went to Cartmel, Murphy replied: 'I didn't make any arrangements about the sale of the horse.'

Mr Roger Gray QC, defending Collins, insisted in his summing up that the two defendants might have broken Jockey Club rules, but they had not been dishonest. Ruses, said Mr Gray, were all part of the racing game. There was also the Eleventh Commandment of the bookmakers - 'Thou shalt not win!' Mr Gray spoke of the little men with binoculars who spy on horses at gallops, and the groups of punters who place large numbers of small bets. Such devices were embedded in the folklore of racing. The ancient war between book-makers had existed for years. Many people would say it gave colour, life and fun to the sport. Others, of course, might think it was a dirty game. Indeed, the whole affair was riddled with deceit, but it was accepted. In the betting game, the whole object was to 'take the bookies for a financial ride'. 'This was a betting coup that came off,' stressed Mr Gray. Though it was a jolly case, containing plenty of laughs and conducted in a friendly spirit, Mr Gray emphasized that Collins and Murphy were behind the brass rails of the dock in a criminal court, when the only rails they should have been behind were the wooden ones of a racecourse. Mr Richard du Cann QC, for Murphy, told the jury it was not a case concerned with the doping or pulling of horses. Gay Future won on merit because it was a first-class horse. And there was nothing wrong in seeking to beat the bookmakers. In his closing speech, Mr Taylor said it was a conspiracy from start to finish to defraud bookmakers.

On the sixth day of the trial, Mr Justice Caulfield presented an immaculate summing up, using a string of racing terms to impress on the jury the main issues. They had rounded the bend and the post was almost in sight, he said. Dealing with the Cork party who placed bets in London, the judge said it did not follow, because they showed some cunning in these transactions, that they were dishonest. There was nothing wrong in a person who had good information about a horse spreading his bets. There was no doubt that Murphy, though he did not proclaim to the world that he was the sole architect of a brilliant piece of betting, was at least not running away and concealing his identity. The jury were away six hours and seventeen minutes considering their verdict, and when they returned, on the seventh day of the trial, they found Murphy and Collins both guilty of conspiring to defraud bookmakers. Each man was fined one thousand pounds and ordered to pay five hundred pounds in costs. Mr Justice Caulfield told Collins that he had no doubt he had great devotion to the Turf and eventually might suffer at the hands of the Jockey Club. In his position it would probably be the equivalent of being drummed out of the regiment. Murphy, he said, was obviously a racing man who had obtained some thrill in helping to design the coup. 'It would be absurd to classify you as a fraudulent man,' he told him. As soon as Collins and Murphy had left the court, Mr Taylor successfully applied for a warrant for the arrest of McAllan, the absent stable-lad who had refused to attend the trial as a prosecution witness. Superintendent O'Connell said he had tried to serve a witness order on McAllan but the lad had thrown the recognizance notes to the floor. Though the trial officially closed on it February, it was not until to March that the anxious winning punters, whether connected with the coup or not, were told by BOLA that all bets on the race were being declared void and that no one would be paid out.

Even then the complex drama was far from over. McAllan finally crept from his hole to surrender, and was gaoled for a month, while in the Court of Appeal a solemn Lord Justice McKenna firmly refused Collins leave to challenge his conviction. With the legal door slammed tightly on the errant Collins, the way was now open for the Jockey Club to step in and deliver their own decisive knockout blow. They sent for Murphy first, and on 14 July 1977 the disciplinary committee decided that the Cork millionaire had committed a criminal offence in relation to racing and banned him from British racecourses for ten years. A week later, they sentenced Collins to the same lengthy stretch, and for the same reasons. Collins reacted angrily. He thought the sentence was harsh, particularly as 'a jockey was recently suspended for only seven years when he admitted deliberately stopping a horse from winning'. He was referring to Chris Thomson Jones and the Even Sail incident. Bookmakers also came under fire from Collins. In a letter to The Sporting Life he wrote, 'Might I suggest that Lord Wigg arranges for the public, who were in no way involved, to be treated honourably.' It was a nice parting gesture, but for a man of Collins's deflated reputation to advocate honour to a highly respected peer of the realm was probably the most audacious feature of the whole extraordinary affair. After the trial, Murphy was reported as saying, 'Sure I planned the thing. Why not? It's every man's dream, isn't it, to skin the bookies?'