With his dark hair, chiselled features and a toothy grin, Richard Baker thought he could cast a spell on any woman he crossed paths with in nightclubs in English seaside towns and holiday hotspots along the Costa del Sol.
But in reality, there was nothing remotely charming about Baker, in fact hiding behind the suntan and flirtatious one-liners was one of the most dangerous sexual predators in British history.
Baker committed a string of ‘wicked and depraved’ rapes while working as a part-time DJ, moving from resort-to-resort in London, Essex, Sussex and Spain, hunting new victims as he played pop music in sweaty bars and clubs and spiking their drinks with Rohypnol.
He was found guilty of attacking 12 women, aged between 15 and 35, during an eight-month period in 1998, but detectives believed the real number of victims was 100.
I sat and watched as Baker wept pathetic crocodile tears in the dock of the Old Bailey after a judge handed him four life sentences.
Little did I know that just hours later I’d be confronted by the man himself in a conversation so chilling it still haunts me 30 years later.
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