Dennis Nilsen: The Quiet Boy from Aberdeenshire to London’s Notorious Killer
Dennis Nilsen’s story is not just that of a serial killer but of a complex, isolated figure shaped by childhood traumas, repressed desires, and eventual violent fantasies. His life began unremarkably in the peaceful town of Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire, but took a dark turn that would shake the nation years later. Born on 23 November 1945 to a Scottish mother and a Norwegian father, Nilsen was one of three children. His father, a soldier who prioritised his military duties over family, left when Nilsen was young. This absence left his mother to care for Dennis, his older brother Olav Jr., and younger sister Sylvia. Despite this fractured family, Nilsen’s early years were marked by moments of tranquillity and joy.
A Quiet Yet Adventurous Childhood
As a child, Nilsen was quiet and observant, but also adventurous. Some of his fondest memories were of family picnics in the Scottish countryside, and especially of time spent with his maternal grandfather, a figure he described as his “great hero and protector.” His grandfather, a fisherman, would take him on long walks along the harbour and across the sand dunes. Dennis later recalled these outings as moments of contentment, a stark contrast to the darkness that would follow. However, in 1951, tragedy struck when his grandfather passed away while fishing in the North Sea. Nilsen’s mother allowed him to view his grandfather’s body in an open coffin, describing him as “gone to a better place.” This experience left young Dennis with a deep sense of loss and confusion, contributing to an emotional withdrawal that would define his teenage years.
As Dennis grew older, he became increasingly isolated, often avoiding family gatherings and spending hours at the harbour watching fishing boats. The bond he had with his grandfather made him feel alone among his family members, and he grew resentful of the attention his mother and grandmother gave his siblings, particularly his older brother. After a near-drowning experience at Inverallochy beach, which he later described as strangely peaceful, Nilsen’s life changed once more as his mother remarried and moved the family to Strichen. Nilsen’s stepfather was strict, and though Dennis resented him initially, he gradually grew to respect him.
Adolescence and a Growing Conflict with Identity
Nilsen’s teenage years were marked by confusion over his sexuality. Realising he was gay, he was consumed by shame and guilt, made worse by his conservative environment. His inner conflict led him to isolate further, and his relationship with his siblings, particularly his brother, became strained. His brother would often taunt him, sensing Dennis’s discomfort, which only deepened Nilsen’s sense of alienation. Feeling trapped in Aberdeenshire, he saw the British Army as a chance to escape and, in 1961, enlisted in the Army Cadet Force.
An Army Career and Dark Fantasies Take Root
The British Army initially provided Nilsen with the structure and belonging he craved. Serving as a cook in locations like West Germany, he kept his sexuality hidden, often showering alone to avoid revealing his secret. But an incident during his service marked the beginning of a sinister shift in Nilsen’s psyche. After a night of drinking, he awoke on the floor next to an unconscious colleague, which sparked fantasies of possessing a passive, lifeless partner. He began to imagine scenarios where he had complete control—a dark fantasy that would later influence his crimes. By the end of his 11-year Army career, these fantasies had become deeply ingrained.
Life in London and a Brief Domesticity with David Gallichan
After leaving the Army, Nilsen moved to London, where he joined the Metropolitan Police. But the loneliness of the big city and his lack of close relationships weighed on him, driving him to drink alone in his flat. By 1975, he had left the police and found work as a civil servant in a Jobcentre. It was here, in November 1975, that he encountered 20-year-old David Gallichan outside a pub, being harassed by two men. Nilsen intervened, invited him back to his flat, and the two spent the night talking. Gallichan was recently arrived from Somerset, unemployed, and living in a hostel. The next day, they decided to move in together, and using an inheritance from his father, Nilsen rented a ground-floor flat at 195 Melrose Avenue.
The flat was sparse, but the couple set about furnishing it, with Gallichan taking the lead in redecorating. Nilsen saw himself as the provider and, for a while, felt a sense of contentment. However, the relationship soon began to unravel. They slept in separate beds, and both brought other men home. By 1977, after frequent arguments, Gallichan left, ending their brief attempt at domesticity. Alone once again, Nilsen sought companionship in fleeting encounters but failed to build any lasting relationships. By 1978, he had largely withdrawn from social life, spending evenings drinking and listening to music. This period of solitude, coupled with his unresolved fantasies, laid the groundwork for his descent into violence.
The Murders Begin: A Desire for Control and Possession
Between 1978 and 1983, Nilsen’s fantasies turned deadly as he embarked on a series of murders, ultimately taking the lives of at least 12 men and boys. His victims were often vulnerable individuals—homeless, transient, or simply in need of shelter. Nilsen lured them to his flat under the pretense of friendship, offering them food and alcohol. His first known victim, Stephen Holmes, was only 14 years old when Nilsen met him at a pub in Cricklewood. Holmes had unsuccessfully tried to buy alcohol and was easily persuaded to join Nilsen for drinks at his flat. The following morning, Nilsen woke to find Holmes asleep beside him, and afraid the boy would leave, he decided to keep him “forever.” He strangled Holmes with a necktie, drowned him in a bucket of water, then washed and stored the body beneath the floorboards.
Over the next few years, Nilsen repeated this pattern with other young men, including Canadian tourist Kenneth Ockenden and Merseyside teenager Martyn Duffey. His victims were often strangled, drowned, and then subjected to a ritual of washing, dressing, and storing. Sometimes, Nilsen would sit with the corpses, talk to them, or position them around the flat as though they were alive. He later described these bodies as “flatmates” that would never leave or reject him.
As the bodies accumulated, Nilsen faced the logistical challenge of disposal. At Melrose Avenue, he stored the bodies beneath the floorboards, but by 1981, the odour of decay became overwhelming. To manage the smell, he began dismembering the corpses and burning the remains in bonfires in the garden, using car tyres to mask the smell of burning flesh. Neighbours, unaware of the true nature of his actions, assumed he was simply disposing of rubbish.
A New Flat and Final Victims at Cranley Gardens
In 1981, Nilsen’s landlord decided to renovate 195 Melrose Avenue and asked him to vacate. He moved to an attic flat at 23 Cranley Gardens, but without access to a garden, he was forced to find other means of disposal. Here, Nilsen killed three more men, including 20-year-old Stephen Sinclair, whose remains he attempted to dispose of by flushing down the toilet. However, this practice eventually led to a blocked drain, sparking complaints from tenants and ultimately leading to Nilsen’s capture.
The story of Dennis Nilsen’s discovery begins with an everyday plumbing job. On 8 February 1983, a Dyno-Rod employee named Michael Cattran responded to complaints from Nilsen and other tenants about a blocked drain at 23 Cranley Gardens. Opening the drain cover, Cattran found it stuffed with a strange, flesh-like material and tiny bones that didn’t look quite right. Concerned, he reported his find to his supervisor, Gary Wheeler. As it was already dusk, they decided to come back the next day to investigate further. Before leaving, they briefly spoke with Nilsen, who heard Cattran’s remark about the blockage resembling human flesh and coolly quipped, “Looks like someone’s been flushing down their Kentucky Fried Chicken.”
The next morning at 7:30, Cattran and Wheeler returned, only to find the drain mysteriously cleared. Now even more suspicious, Cattran checked a pipe that ran from the drain to the upper flat, discovering scraps of flesh and bones that looked a lot like parts of a human hand. They immediately called the police. Pathologists later confirmed the remains were human, with one piece even showing a ligature mark—clear evidence that someone had died by strangulation.
The police quickly focused on Nilsen’s flat. Detective Chief Inspector Peter Jay waited outside until Nilsen returned home and asked him about the drain. Feigning confusion, Nilsen asked if the officers were health inspectors. When he realised they were police, he reluctantly let them inside. The officers were hit with an overwhelming smell of decay as they entered. When told the blockage was caused by human remains, Nilsen tried to look shocked, exclaiming, “Good grief, how awful!” DCI Jay wasn’t buying it. He cut to the chase, asking, “Don’t mess about, where’s the rest of the body?”
Nilsen calmly admitted he had body parts in two plastic bags in his wardrobe. The officers didn’t open the bags right there but asked if there were more remains. Nilsen replied, “It’s a long story; it goes back a long time. I’ll tell you everything. I want to get it off my chest. Not here—at the police station.” As they drove him in, he gazed out the window and casually confessed he’d killed “fifteen or sixteen” people since 1978.
Later that evening, the police returned to Cranley Gardens to remove the bags from Nilsen’s wardrobe, which contained a grisly assortment: two dissected torsos, a shopping bag full of internal organs, a severed head, and other remains. Both heads had clearly been subjected to boiling to remove the flesh.
Confession and Aftermath
In an interview on 10 February, Nilsen confessed he had more remains stored in a tea chest in his living room and in a drawer in his bathroom. These were the body parts of three men he had strangled, usually with a necktie. He admitted he’d killed around “twelve or thirteen” men at his previous address on Melrose Avenue, attempted to kill another seven, and even let one victim go after resuscitating him.
A further search at Cranley Gardens revealed more body parts, and Nilsen himself accompanied police back to Melrose Avenue to show them where he had burned remains in the garden. The media quickly caught wind of the story, and by the next day, it was front-page news, complete with photos from Nilsen’s family.
When formally questioned, Nilsen was surprisingly indifferent about his motives. When asked why he’d killed, he simply said, “I’m hoping you will tell me that.” He claimed his decision to kill was often impulsive. He also explained his post-murder “ritual,” which involved bathing the bodies, shaving them, applying makeup, and positioning them as though they were still alive. To him, they became “props” in his fantasies, rather than individuals with identities. He claimed he never actually penetrated his victims, saying they were “too perfect and beautiful for the pathetic ritual of commonplace sex.”
As chilling as his story was, Nilsen showed no remorse. When asked if he regretted his actions, he admitted, “I wished I could stop, but I couldn’t. I had no other thrill or happiness,” even calling his murders an “art” he worshipped.
During his trial, Nilsen pled not guilty by reason of diminished responsibility, but was ultimately found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. After his conviction, Nilsen was sent to HMP Wormwood Scrubs to start his life sentence. As a Category A prisoner, he had his own cell but could move around freely among other inmates. Nilsen didn’t bother appealing his case, accepting that the prosecution was right—he’d been fully aware of his actions and planned his murders in advance. He even admitted that he got a thrill from luring “friends” back, deciding to kill, and then dealing with the bodies afterward. He also claimed that being drunk was the main reason two of his attempts didn’t end in murder.
In December 1983, Nilsen was attacked by a fellow inmate, Albert Moffatt, who slashed him with a razor, leaving him with 89 stitches across his face and chest. Following this incident, he was briefly moved to HMP Parkhurst, then transferred to HMP Wakefield, where he stayed until 1990. In 1991, concerns for his safety saw him moved to a vulnerable prisoner unit at HMP Full Sutton, where he stayed until 1993. He was then sent to HMP Whitemoor as a Category A prisoner, this time with even stricter separation from the general prison population.
Originally, Nilsen had been sentenced to serve a minimum of 25 years, but in 1994, the Home Secretary, Michael Howard, upped his sentence to a whole-life term, ensuring he’d never be released. Nilsen accepted this decision and didn’t challenge it.
By 2003, Nilsen was back at HMP Full Sutton, where he remained until his death. There, he spent his time translating books into braille in the prison workshop and took up painting, reading, and even composing music on a keyboard. Known for his love of correspondence, he wrote letters to various people over the years. Nilsen stayed at Full Sutton until he passed away on 12 May 2018.