No pre-investigation for me on this one. Way too much information on display - it being a museum and everything. I knew we were heading there, so I had been extremely careful not to read anything about the haunting there, or the history of the place. I managed it; you have my word (for what it’s worth). So I really had no idea what to expect. My arrival there was hindered by the passed out woman blocking the door leading out of the car park. This was solved by walking up two levels (she was clearly incapacitated and medics were present, in case anybody is wondering). A great start to the eve!

We had some friends and family along for the ride on this one, but they weren’t due for another hour. As equipment was being set up, I went with Tammy for a quick tour of the place. And what a place! It is much bigger than it looks, and is actually part of the Town Hall. The museum is situated in what was once the police station. I wasn’t picking up much, just the usual sensation that a lot of people pass through the building – mundane, background ‘noise’. Hardly unique for a town hall. As we wondered around the old cells, I did start to pick up on something building up, nothing clear at this point. Just that familiar sensation that something was brewing. I had to keep my eyes to the floor in some parts, as there were photos and information on the walls. I was actually more concerned about the amount of dust I was breathing in, than anything else – particularly in the room that is now a library of old legal books, records, all sorts. It was leaving here that I first saw it – the image of what I first believed to be a woman. ‘She’ was peering at us from around one of the bookshelves as we left the room. ‘She’ had short black hair and black top with shiny buttons. That’s all I saw before ‘she’ vanished. We did a quick check to make sure nobody else was present (there wasn’t), then made our way back upstairs. No names at this stage.

The photographer, Sam Stephenson, from The Argus had arrived by this point, so we had some photos taken and a brief chat, before the reporter, Tim Ridgway, and our guests arrived. When everyone had arrived, I had to get out of earshot and sight as they were treated to a talk/brief history of the place (complete with PowerPoint presentation!) by Johan, aided by Tammy and Clare. So off I went to go annoy our friendly security guard for the night. We had a rather jolly conversation about the supernatural (my new friend is from Bali, so was quite well versed in spiritual matters), for what seemed like a small ice age until it was ok for me to rejoin the group. And off we went for a tour of the whole place, including the council chambers upstairs. Here, I again saw the image of the ‘woman’, very briefly this time. Again peering at us, this time from the doorway leading into a meeting room. One revelation for me – in the old male cells, there is an old style police uniform on display. This uniform had a dark top with shiny buttons – the same top the ‘woman’ I had seen was wearing! So, not a woman after all. This was a male officer’s uniform. We had a mini vigil in the basement, nothing really to report other than me beginning to get a slight headache above my right ear, and one of the girls in the group seeing a strange light streak across the floor and along the wall.

After the group tour, we split into two groups. It was into the basement library for my group. What dusty joy! As we arranged ourselves and switched off the lights, I could really feel that charging sensation again. After a few minutes, questions were asked out loud, asking the spirit here to identify itself. I got nothing for a while until the phrases ‘I’m the boss’ and ‘You should know me’ kept repeating to me. Whoever it was, obviously felt they were of some significance. In the dark, I was fairly certain that I could see the same ghostly figure again, but I’m not positive about this. My headache was getting worse, and I was beginning to get frustrated – just give me a name! Then Bam! A sharp pain on my left arm – on my bicep. It felt like somebody had poked me with something blunt, and I do not mind admitting it did rather hurt. Nobody present had hit me, so I could only assume that the resident spirit found it rather distasteful of me to not who they were. After MUCH coaxing and my headache really getting to the point that I was finding it difficult to concentrate – a name: Harry. No, Henry. Definitely Henry. Then more of the same ‘I’m the boss’ etc. Then, mercifully, a surname! S – something. Saul… no. St… no. Solomon! Henry Solomon! A full name, the pain was almost worth it. We decided to rejoin the others at this point, and then had a breather. I checked my arm – it was clearly bruised.

The others had been upstairs in the council chambers. Not much for them to report other than some possible creaking/knocking and a door swinging open. We took up vigil in the old male cells. I shared a cell with Sam and Tim Nothing happened for a while. Then, in the cell we were in – the image of a short man, with his neck clearly broken, appeared in the corner. Dark trousers, white shirt, and dark waistcoat. Short hair. His head was flopped to his left, at an impossible angle. Clearly snapped. No rope – just the body suspended form some invisible thread, before vanishing. Definitely just an image, not a spirit. This was purposely being shown to me, along with the phrase. ‘They stringed him for what he did’ along with the feeling of utter disbelief. Obviously some connection with Henry. A little later, this connection was made clear to me. Henry appeared again, briefly. In another cell. This time, however, his head above his right ear was a complete mess. Eye swollen, shut, blood dripping down his ear. Not pretty – I was glad that image soon faded. My head was hurting again, just as the name John came to me. John Richards. But Richards was an alias. The full name was Jack Lawrence. The hanged image was of John Lawrence. Two full names! Fantastic stuff! Then, for some apparently bizarre reason – the image of a rolled up rug or carpet. After a few minutes, what had happened between Henry and John was made apparent to me.

The image played out for me. Henry was questioning John; they were both sat at a table – a fireplace in the background. The fireplace wasn’t particularly grand, and wasn’t lit. Henry stood up, turning his back on John. John took this opportunity to grab something and swing it at Henry’s head, striking him above the right ear. This is where it stopped. I know now that Henry Solomon had been appointed Chief Constable of Brighton Borough Police back in 1838. He had arrested John for the theft of some carpet. It was a poker that John had struck him with, killing him. Henry was killed over the theft of some carpet. This explains to me the sensation of utter disbelief I had, as well as the pain in my head. John was hanged in Horsham for his crime.

I was really feeling really quite drained by this point. We headed upstairs to the council chamber, for another vigil. The final group one. Nothing happened for quite some time, until I could feel the build up of energy, leading into a meeting room just off the main chamber. Henry appeared briefly again. Thankfully this time, in his unbloodied state. I wondered into the meeting room with a few of the others. Nothing more to report other than I felt drawn to the wall on the far side of the room, between two windows. I’m sure Henry was saying that something lies behind the panels, or in the wall itself. Quite sure I’ll never know.

By now, it was quite late. We headed back downstairs, and said our goodbyes to our guests. We packed up, and did pop down to the basement for one last vigil. I could now look at the pictures and information on the walls. Henry Solomon’s picture matched the images I had seen. I was glad for that. Everything else I’d picked up on was verified – other than John’s alias. Phew! Nothing to report from our last vigil. Just the ever increasing need for sleep.

The place did not have a negative feel for me – despite what had happened there. Henry is obviously still very much attached to the place. I’m quite sure he’s just keeping an eye on his old watch. I’m certainly not aware of anybody ever reporting anything threatening happening to them here. I am so glad to have picked up on two full names! Even for the bruise on my arm, this was photographed. All brilliant evidence, and complete with witnesses.

I thank all our guests, and hope no one was too put off by the long, often boring periods of sitting around doing nothing. Ghost hunting can be far from glamorous. Be glad it was indoors! My thanks to Sam and Tim from The Argus, for sticking with us the whole night. I’m sure they both had better things to do on a Friday night. And, of course, my thanks to the security guard. Thanks also to Councillor Pat Drake for allowing us the run of the place. We treated it with respect, I can assure you!