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The death of Carnegie

Peter Alexander Gordon Carnegie died in 2021 after a long illness. His cause of death – kidney failure – explains why he was involved with the Tayside Kidney Patients Association. In 2018 he became chairman and was also vice-chair of the Scottish Kidney Federation. But good works could not make up for a defective personality, something most clearly observed in his driving behaviour. When the red mist descends, most drivers might do a few rash, hot-headed manoeuvres, then gradually calm down.
Not so Peter Carnegie: his psychopathic rage knew no bounds. He employed intimidation, vindictiveness and dishonesty as the tools of his warped trade. He orchestrated a conspiracy against an innocent driver and perjured himself in court to get that driver convicted. Then, 8 years later, he tried to squash the driver’s protests by making a libel claim (see ‘Threat’ below).
He could have sought redemption in his dying years, but psychopaths don’t do remorse.
So my only recourse was to see if his associates were able and willing to cast some light on his behaviour - I reasoned that his family and friends would know all about his vindictive nature and might feel morally bound to tell me about it.
Carnegie's marriage had collapsed in 1998, so I hoped his ex-wife Fiona might have reason to spill some beans. Not so - she never responded to an enquiry I made after the trial.
Their daughter Craigie renounced his surname when she got to 18, taking her mother’s maiden name instead.
Thinking there might be some distance between father and daughter, I hoped she might feel like helping me unravel the mystery.
So in 2023, when I became aware of Carnegie's death, I contacted her through Facebook as follows:
"I'm truly sorry if this has come as a shock to you.
I am the person against whom your father orchestrated a conspiracy to get me convicted of a serious motoring offence. 2 questions, if I may:
Is your family unaware of the case? I did once write to your mother about it.
Do you happen to know how your father knew Russell Moir?
I have used this [Facebook account] since 2005 as a means of gathering information about him. It states somewhere that it is a proxy account."
Craigie responded: "You might need to be more specific, who are you please? Can you remember what address you sent the letter to? I'm keen to help you, but need to know what I'm looking for"
I sent her a copy of the unanswered letter I'd sent to her mother in 2005. I included a link to this blog.
The very next day, she blocked me and complained to Facebook. FB investigated, but rejected her complaint.
I never thought Carnegie's daughter would have anything material to contribute to my investigations. But she would have known, from her mother's stories and from her own memories, what her father was like. She could have chosen to help me, her father’s victim, with such background information; she could have taken the path of empathy. Instead, she chose to blank me.
Craigie takes her name from a hard rock in the Clyde estuary. A very hard rock with an icy sheen.

I was not surprised when, 9 months after the case, I had a visit from two policewomen accusing me of that catch-all offence Breach of the Peace by contacting Rob Roy's employer, Rossleigh Jaguar of Perth (I had written to ask what time she had clocked off on the day in question).
Rob Roy, to use her pseudonym, had complained to the Police at Carnoustie. She happens to live with Miro at nearby Panmure.
I made them stand on the doorstep and answered "No Comment" to their "did you write those letters?" questions. I was asked to sign a notebook containing their record of the encounter and to accept a Police Caution.
As I would have welcomed confronting the jittery Rob Roy in court, I refused.
Baffled, the leading cop said her colleague would sign for me. Comedy Gold!
She warned that there were to be no more letters and, "don't do it again" and that there would be no further action.
Needless to say, some years later I wrote again to Rob Roy, asking her to divulge what had really happened that evening. There was no reply. And, although I kept a tape recorder at the ready, the Keystone Cops made no more knocks on my door.

Threat

Sheriff's Notes