The operation required structure. I had no illusions about improvisation. If this was to succeed, it had to be methodical. Every phase had to be defined. Every action had to be accounted for. Every risk had to be anticipated.

I committed the plan to paper. I used my personal ledger — the same one I had used for years to sketch out casework and operational frameworks. The plan was written clearly, with headings, annotations, and contingencies. It was not a record. It was a blueprint.

I divided the operation into five phases.

Phase I: Narrative Destabilisation. The memorandum had done its work. The press had begun to question. Reeve’s guilt was now debated. That was the first step — to fracture the certainty.

Phase II: Witness Suppression. James Harvey required careful handling. He had seen too much, and he had spoken too plainly. I began the process quietly — not with dismissal, but with demoralisation. The goal was not punishment. It was containment.

Phase III: Document Retrieval and Destruction. I began compiling a list of institutions: Scotland Yard, Somerset House, the British Museum Reading Room, Poplar Coroner’s Court. I knew where the records were kept. I knew how they could be retrieved — and removed.

Phase IV: Erasure of Individuals. Four names. Four lives. Reeve. Melrose. Fenwick. Myself. Each one marked for removal — from police rosters, census rolls, burial registers, press archives. I did not intend to hide the truth. I intended to make it unknowable.

Phase V: Self-Removal. No retirement notice. No obituary. No memoir. No trace. I would disappear from the record, as the others had. The operation would be seamless — not hidden, but excised.

I wrote the plan carefully. I reviewed it twice. I made adjustments where needed. The blueprint was complete. And I was ready to begin.