For nearly three decades, the former mining community of Castletown, Sunderland, has been linked with the notorious hoaxer Wearside Jack. Yesterday, residents recalled the fear and rumour that has pervaded their lives. Gavin Engelbrecht reports. Meanwhile, a journalist who writes for The Northern Echo recalls the night when he was confronted by detectives on the doorstep of his home in connection with the killings.

For nearly three decades, a pall of suspicion has hung over the community of Castletown - a name which became synonymous with Wearside Jack.

The former mining community, in Sunderland, became a place of fear after the notorious hoaxer first taunted police investigating the Ripper murders, for which Peter Sutcliffe was later found guilty.

Terrified women armed themselves with knives in the event of an attack by the Ripper at the height of the serial murder probe.

Linguists had pinpointed Castletown as the likely source of the hoaxer's audiotape and letters. But yesterday it emerged that the man arrested as the prime suspect did not have any associations with the community.

Still, news of the arrest spread like wildfire through the community, prompting speculation as to who it could have been.

And it brought memories flooding back of a time when every man of a certain age was a suspect and had to give handwriting samples, voice recordings and provide alibis.

Ray Gilmore, 56, who runs Castletown Motors with his brother Alan, had the unnerving experience of being visited more than once by detectives.

He said: "Everyone was under suspicion. We lived in Southwick, just half a mile away.

"Detectives came back and interviewed me a second time, because my handwriting was apparently just like Wearside Jack's.

"When I gave them another sample of my handwriting, it looked even more like the hoaxer's, according to the police.

"I had all the right criteria, as well. I was the right age, I had transport.

"They asked for alibis and I couldn't remember where I had been. I knew I hadn't done anything, but it was quite scary and spooky."

His brother said: "We knew the voice was from the area. It could have easily been someone living next door.

"It has been the talking point of the town. It has been laid to rest for a long time now - until today."

Despite advice from linguists, police did not always get it right.

Brian Dyer, 67, said: "A policeman turned around to me and said, 'you have the twang', but I was born a Cockney. I had curly hair and a moustache, which made them suspicious."

John Tate, 64, believes he must have been one of the few who was not questioned. "They must have heard I was from Hetton, so they left me alone," he said.

Jim Morton, 44, said: "I was a bit young then to be a suspect. But I remember it was massive. There was a big police wagon parked up there for months. People were going and giving them names.

"I remember rumours were rife about who it could be. Experts said the hoaxer was from Castletown, but there were some doubts though because some people felt the tape did not ring true. It put us on the map for all the wrong reasons."

In the Village Salon, women having their hair styled were keen to get the latest snippets on Tuesday's arrest. They remembered the resentment among residents at the large police wagon parked in the high street for many months.

Hairdresser Andrea Robson, who was five at the time, said: "I can remember there being police all over the place.

"They came and spoke to my father as well. It was all quite scary."

When the name of John Humble - the man arrested - was told to them, they did not recognise it. And neither would they. It belongs to someone who had been born and, by all accounts, lived his whole life on the other side of the river.

Whatever happens to him, the community of Castletown will now surely hope that the stain they have worn for so many years will be removed forever.

The night I was confronted by detectives over Ripper deaths

AS a BBC radio news reporter in the 1970s I was more used to covering the news than becoming part of it.

But I will never forget that night in 1979 when I suddenly became a suspect in the hunt for Wearside Jack.

Two detectives had called earlier in the day at our home in Burnopfield, north-west Durham, where my wife, Tricia, told them I was out at work. They came back that night at about seven o'clock.

What followed was one of the weirdest experiences of my life, which at times bordered on the ridiculous, but also became quite alarming.

The detectives, who had been drafted into the hoax Yorkshire Ripper inquiry, focused their questioning on the fact that I had run the BBC Radio Newcastle newsroom in Holmside, Sunderland, for a year before moving on to Leeds to work as a news producer.

Working with tape and recorder were tools of the trade for every BBC radio reporter - and the hoax Ripper tapes were an important part of the inquiry.

After asking me questions about my family and background, which included the names of my parents, the detectives asked me about my movements in Leeds and Sunderland. They then asked me my blood group and examined my teeth, but I could never understand the reason for this.

By then, Tricia was beginning to show signs of anxiety. "When the two detectives called at our house during the day," she recalls, "they never said what they wanted to talk to John about.

"We were both aware about the connection between Sunderland and the hoax Ripper as it was on nearly every news bulletin at the time, but I never thought it would land on our doorstep. They even asked questions about my family, who originally came from Yorkshire.

"Thinking back about it today, the whole thing seems surreal."

The detectives and I then moved upstairs to one of the bedrooms, where I opened a wardrobe for them to make a detailed examination of all my shoes.

Nothing was taken away, and more questions followed about my work for the BBC in Leeds and Sunderland. They seemed satisfied by my answers, but asked me a lot of questions about my movements in West Yorkshire.

Two hours later they left. There was no apology, or explanation. I remain as puzzled today as when they first turned up at home all those years ago.

They never returned.