I loved my husband. I fell for his charm when we met, and I did all manner of things I shouldn’t have because, well, I would have done anything for him. But that was years ago. Since he got his way and became pro, he thought he was Tiger Woods. Chasing women, trying to run the club himself and upsetting June, it wasn’t until I starting cheating on him myself that I realised all the stuff he got up to. Mark and I were a bit of fun and it helped us both get back at him, but I realised that wasn’t enough. He was making everyone’s lives miserable. And it had to stop. It was easy in the end, he was sulking outside while June was having her board meeting to have him fired, I saw my opportunity, I ran him over and killed him.

I didn’t like Rob. We got on sometimes but he treated me like his own personal slave. Working crazy early sorting his filthy golf bag out, cleaning his clubs. Do it yourself man! I think he was doing that so I couldn’t spend time with his wife. But we found our ways round that. 

He also prevented me from becoming a professional in my own right. And now he’s dead I will be re-applying with all the evidence that has come to light. That would have been a good reason to kill him. But on the night he was killed I was working in the bar, everyone saw me there, and I had to get up early to sort his golf stuff. It wasn’t until he didn’t show that I realised something was wrong.

Robert Ironside was the embodiment of  Club Professional. Assuming a Club professional is a drug taking, cheating, manipulative liar who’s ego is much bigger than his child size feet.

He was a terrible man. I didn’t necessarily want him dead, but let’s be honest, my life is going to be easier now that he is. On the night he was killed, I had a meeting to have him fired, and warned him to stay away from the club. If he had listened, he wouldn’t have been on the premises and the opportunity to kill him with one of our buggies wouldn’t have presented itself. But it wasn’t me, I was in that meeting for quite some time as you can imagine. I was in my office, and until the next morning, I was happy thinking he was out of my club. The only downside to his murder is he will likely be given some sort of tribute here.

I have always maintained my innocence. I know I never failed that drugs test, and it turns out it was all a set up from that horrid little weasel Ironside. I mean, talk about no scruples, he even set up his own wife to confess on tape that she was the one who actually switched my test with his own failed one.

And yes, this may have been a reason to kill him, and I admit I feel no sorrow that he’s dead, but if you listened carefully to my interview with the police, I mentioned that i struggled to get golf shoes in my size. I’m known for my stupid big feet. But that proves I couldn’t have squashed into Robert’s wellies and walked through that bunker. Plus any pro will tell you that you rake a bunker once you’ve used it. It wasn’t me.