FRIDAY marks the tenth anniversary of the death of Willie McRae, a

mystery which I have been living and breathing for the past few weeks.

No doubt the occasion will be marked by some ritual at the memorial

cairn, on the A87 by Loch Loyne. It is gratifying to think that this

year, a decade on, we have finally hardened up some of the key facts

surrounding McRae's death. And, a week after our revelations, none of

these facts -- of body, history, scene -- has been contradicted by any

authority.

There is one thing I should clarify, as my careless use of ''onside''

and ''offside'' in last Tuesday's essay may spread confusion. McRae's

car, in the photographs I saw, was leaning towards the driver's side; it

was the wheels (or a wheel) on the driver's side that might have been in

the tiny burn; and it was the headlamp on the same side of the car which

was hanging off by its wires.

Some close to McRae, talking to that esteemed and fairminded journal

the West Highland Free Press, have insisted that he was indeed depressed

and suicidal in the last days of his life. Claims of inaccuracy were

also made against my first essay, published last Monday. Such I can well

believe; much of the material in that account, as I made plain, was

drawn from a 1990 book outlining the mystery. And, as I made equally

plain, the same book is alarmingly unreliable. We had to waste valuable

time checking and counter checking some assertions it made; we simply

had no time to check them all.

As for friends and family who testify to McRae's despair in that last

week, their claims are offset by others -- equally close -- who insist

the lawyer was buoyant and happy. So hopeless is the conflict, and so

irrelevant in any event is it to the final theatre of McRae's end, that

students of the case are best ignoring such evidence completely. I will

consider McRae's supposedly suicidal state when someone explains to me

how he shot himself with a gun found several yards from his car, a gun

that yielded no fingerprints whatsoever.

The public testimony of some close to McRae now confirms that he had a

serious drink problem. Other evidence suggests that he might have had

homosexual tendencies. At best, such evidence does little more than beef

up possible motives for suicide. As far as homicide goes, it proves

nothing.

Your response to these articles has been gratifying. The ink had

barely dried on Tuesday's paper when, following a tip-off, we finally

managed to locate and interview the long-lost Ronnie Welsh. Letters and

phone calls have been pouring in. Valuable new leads are emerging,

important names and clues provided, credible explanations for various

loose ends volunteered . . . Keep thinking, and keep writing. Anyone who

reads those essays, with an open mind and a certain flexibility of

thought, is quite capable of seeing something we at The Herald have

missed. And one or two folk already have.

There are certain matters that continue to puzzle me, and on which the

opinion of others would be welcomed.

One is the extraordinary position of Dr Fergus McRae. For a decade,

Willie McRae's surviving brother -- who, more than anyone else,

frustrated hopes of a public inquiry -- has insisted, with increasing

hysteria, that the Glasgow solicitor took his own life. One beholds this

with mingled compassion and bewilderment -- I simply do not understand a

close relative wanting to believe that the sudden death of a loved one

was self-inflicted.

There is a tactical puzzle, too. A public inquiry 10 years ago -- if

it had established suicide -- would have killed the mystery stone dead.

Instead, amid whispers and conspiracy talk, the McRae mystery has

attained mythical status. Willie McRae's useful and fascinating life is

increasingly buried under speculation about this death. And, as long as

his family resists a public inquiry, his demise will retain the ghoulish

fascination of the public.

Another mystery: the deafening silence from the Crown Office. Last

week, ex-constable Kenny Crawford publicly declared that he had found

the gun on April 7, 1985, and found it several yards from McRae's car.

This directly contradicts the 1990 statement of the then Lord Advocate,

Lord Fraser of Carmyllie, that the gun was found directly beneath where

the door of the car had been -- a statement he made in a public letter

to Perth and Kinross MP Nicholas Fairbairn.

Death, by a few cruel weeks, has cheated us of Fairbairn's response to

Crawford's disclosure: I suspect it would have been colourful. But the

conflict raises serious questions, and the inferences it spawns are not

pleasant. If Crawford stands by his story, and if Lord Fraser continues

to hold his own counsel, that alone should swell demand for a public

inquiry. Concerned peers should now consider a direct question to the

Minister in the House of Lords. And the SNP should ponder the matter, as

a by-election looms in Perth and Kinross for the choice of Fairbairn's

successor.

But the biggest mystery of all in the case is the gun -- that little,

silver .22 Smith & Wesson revolver. Evidence is now emerging that it

was, indeed, McRae's gun -- though no-one has contradicted my simple

assertion that it was the testimony of Welsh alone which identified the

gun for the authorities.

If McRae did take his own life -- and suicide has the agreeable virtue

of simplicity -- why was the gun not found close to his hand or car? It

has been suggested that it fell in the burn and was washed down some

distance by the current. Having inspected the area again -- on Saturday

-- I find this incredible. This burn is barely a foot wide; even in

heavy rain there is no great volume of water. The current is repeatedly

broken by little dams and cataracts of rock. I simply don't believe that

the heavy wee gun could have been shifted that distance by the stream,

even in full spate.

But -- if McRae was murdered -- why was the gun left at all? Any

sensible assassin would have taken the revolver with him. Unless, of

course, they were trying to fake a gunshot suicide -- in which case the

gun would have been left as close to McRae as possible. Since my essays

appeared, evidence has emerged that the gun may have been planted on the

scene after the comatose McRae was removed. But your own suggestions on

this would be welcome.

The great difficulty is establishing a credible murder scenario. You

have to explain the crash, the wound, the puncture, the new wheel on the

axle, the pile of papers . . . you have to identify an assassin and a

motive; you have to explain how that person afterwards left the scene,

in the middle of the night on a lonely road miles from habitation.

The more I think about it, the less eager I am to finger the ''secret

state''. Len Murray, whose moving tribute to his old colleague last week

was good reading, is healthily sceptical: it is hard to credit that we

live in a land where awkward politicians are liquidated. And McRae --

who, it is now evident, had multiple problems at the time of his death

-- was scarcely a figure threatening British civilisation as we know it.

No proof has emerged that he carried nuclear secrets: only conveniently

anonymous claims by unspecified ''friends''.

Claims have emerged that McRae was under Special Branch surveillance.

But such sources have good reasons, I think, for wanting us to believe

it. Even if McRae was being trailed, I must be heretical: such

surveillance could have been justified. For public safety alone, Special

Branch could rightly have shadowed McRae if they thought he could have

led them to certain desperadoes. Chilling as the Prevention of Terrorism

Act is, its provisions exist to protect us all from random bombing and

bloodshed.

That Special Branch officers, however, could cold-bloodedly murder a

declining political figure I find incredible. If they killed him, it

would have been by ''accident''. Perhaps McRae stopped and challenged

them. Maybe he produced his gun. There could have been a ''scene'';

things rapidly getting out of hand . . .

I have my own scenario for McRae's death. But it does not involve the

secret state and, while it indicates homicide, I doubt if it would be

defined as murder in the full legal sense. For now, I plan quietly to

investigate various lines; I have a book well advanced on the case, and

no immediate plans for further revelations in The Herald.

A final warning. I have been told that, after 10 years, the Crown

Office could now destroy all its papers on the McRae case -- which is,

after all, officially closed. I will say this. If it ever emerges that

the file no longer exists, that it has been burned or shredded -- then,

without hesitation, I will reveal what papers I have seen, where and

when I saw them, who showed them to me, what position that person held,

what position that person held in the spring of 1985, and what role that

person played in inquiries into the strange death of Willie McRae.

I simply do not understand a close relative wanting to believe that

the sudden death of a loved one was self-inflicted