The mystery of the Cromarty Suicides: why did four friends kill themselves within months of one another?

IoS investigation: Last week it was Martin. He followed Richard, Mark and Ivor. Julia Stuart reports

Dolphins have made the seaside town famous. Tourists from around Britain and the world come to catch a glimpse of the mammals leaping out of the sea beside the 18th-century Scottish village of Cromarty.

Dolphins have made the seaside town famous. Tourists from around Britain and the world come to catch a glimpse of the mammals leaping out of the sea beside the 18th-century Scottish village of Cromarty.

Not that one of the biggest schools of bottlenose dolphins in the UK is the only attraction. With its sandy beaches, stunning views and traditional village pubs, many visitors return each year. Such is its allure, some even move there permanently.

But Cromarty has now gained an unwelcome - and disturbing - new distinction: it is at the centre of a macabre mystery over why four friends have committed suicide within 12 months of each other.

In a phenonenom that has left relatives and mental health experts baffled, the fourth - and, locals hope, final - death came last week when Martin Morrison (pictured right), a 19-year-old, was found hanging beneath a bridge beside the Cromarty Firth.

There was nothing to suggest that he would join his three friends in the grave. His evening had been much like any other. After a few pints with friends in the village pub, he went home to baby-sit Luke, his step-brother's two-year-old son.

When the little boy's father returned around 11pm, Martin popped out to buy some food from the local all-night baker. He never came back.

Martin was buried last week. One of the mourners at his funeral was John Burnside, whose son, Richard, 36, killed himself last year, following the suicides of Mark Thow, 40, and Ivor Robertson, 35. They died within four months of each other.

On the surface, Cromarty last week gave away few answers to the suicide mystery. With its low crime rate and beautiful setting, it was difficult to imagine why anyone would take their own life.

Nor were local people able to provide many answers. Asked why it is that the Scottish Highlands have the highest suicide rate in Britain - about 50 men in every 100,000 take their life every year and seven people try to commit suicide each day - the villagers fell silent.

It was a characteristic displayed by Stuart Blades, 28, Martin's step-brother. The pair shared a house along with another step-brother, Richard, 26, and had barbecues in the front garden. Martin's parents divorced last year. His father, Angus, a fisherman, still lives in the village, while his mother, Ann, lives in Devon.

Sitting on a sofa in the village's Royal Hotel, where he works as the head chef, Stuart spoke out for the first time, saying of being told by a policeman that his stepbrother was dead: "It's not what you want to wake up to."

Why did Martin kill himself? In his earlier life, he had been troubled with mood swings. But life had recently been looking up. He had completed a cooking course in Inverness. His other love was fishing for crabs: his father used to take him out in his wooden boat.

Martin had found work on a boat for a period, but was no longer employed when he took his life. "I think he would have been better in himself if he had had something to do," said Stuart. "Everybody complains they can't find work. But he tried not to let it get him down. He was quiet and wouldn't hurt anyone. He loved Luke and was great with him. No one knows why he did it. He had just come to the end of his tether." Martin left a note in his bedroom, apologising to his mother.

So what of the other men who have also given Cromarty and the area such an unhappy new reputation? Mark Thow also seemed to have everything to live for: a good job, three children, a nice house.

But on Easter Monday last year, after taking his dog for a walk, he hanged himself from the bathroom door. His 14-year-old son found him.

Mark, Ivor and Richard played football together for Glenalbyn, a pub team. Martin was not in the team. Instead, he used to play pool with them. After Mark was buried, Ivor and Richard both pledged never to commit suicide. Yet, less than three weeks later, Ivor, a landscape gardener who had suffered bouts of depression, chose his bathroom door to hang himself from. His partner found him when she returned home with their four-year-old son.

As the close-knit community reeled from the death of another Highland son, Richard swore to his father he would never take his own life. The family was very close and he would ring his mother, Edna, three times a day.

In a strange way, Mark and Ivor's deaths led to improvements in Richard's life. A heavy drinker, the death of his friends spurred him to ease off, managing six weeks with only the occasional shandy.

He had a well-paid job in construction and had booked a holiday in Crete for himself and his eight-year-old daughter Kayleigh. But, inexplicably, one morning in August he hanged himself from the upstairs landing. After lunch his mother rang and rang, and by 6pm asked her brother to drop in. Richard's lunch was in the kitchen ready for the day ahead. His body was hanging from the stairs.

Richard's aunt, Carol MacLean, was at Martin's funeral last week. She had to leave early as she was too distraught. "It was just devastating when we heard. Martin was never any trouble. The only time there were police at that door was when they came round to say that he had hanged himself," she said.

She said her nephew was the last person she would expect to take their life. "He would walk into a room and light up the place. It's something my sister and brother-in-law will never get over.

"He would write his mother a poem on Mother's Day. He was a very sentimental boy. What is killing her is that she couldn't help him. It's the not knowing why that is the worst."

Until further research is done, one can only guess at the reasons why so many in the Highlands take their own lives. It is the least densely populated area in the European Community and social isolation is a big risk factor for suicide. Could it be something to do with the Highlander psyche that makes them less likely to seek help? Is the bleak winter weather a factor?

Is there a greater culture of alcohol use to cope with stressful situations? A jokey sign above the bar of the Cromarty Arms reads: "Avoid hangovers, stay drunk."

Clearly, drink is a way of life for many Highlanders. Yet it is also a way of life for many English, Irish and Welsh people. Despite the tourist appeal of places like Cromarty, drug use is also widespread.

"Research needs to be carried out to determine what it is about the Highlanders in particular. Why do they chose suicide, not life?" said Dr Rory O'Connor, head of the suicidal-behaviour research unit at Stirling University.

Locals are praying that the death tally of the circle of friends will stop at four, and Stuart is trying to get used to an enormous gap in his life that can never be filled. "I miss the wee things like him coming home and finding he'd eaten something I had made," he said.

Like many in the area, he cannot make sense of the deaths. Nor can doctors, health workers or friends of the men.

Only the four dead men know. But they cannot help resolve the mystery. They are gone now, and their secrets are with them in their graves.