A few days after 28-year-old Joshua Kerry was accused of murdering former politician Ann Widdecombe, the ordinary public house where Joshua Kerry lived has now been completely sealed off. The property has become a key piece of evidence closely linked to the case, as police continue to uncover crucial evidence allegedly connected to the suspect’s hatred toward the Conservative MP.

However, as the investigation continues to unfold with unexpected developments, the house was suddenly and abruptly sealed off. But that is not where the story ends. Neighbours in the surrounding area noticed something deeply unusual and have revealed a completely different secret connected to the home of the alleged killer…

It was a quiet Sunday evening in Kimberworth Park, Rotherham, when the streets fell silent. No – not quite. At around 3am, a red car was quietly driven away from Byrley Road under the watchful eyes of at least four South Yorkshire Police vehicles. Plain-clothes officers in unmarked cars mingled with the evening crowd returning from watching the England World Cup match. Forensics teams in white overalls scoured bins, hedges and garden fences. By the next day, the mid-terraced council house on Byrley Road – the very one where 28-year-old Joshua Kerry had lived alone since his father’s death – was no longer his.

What began as an arrest on 11 July 2026 for the murder of former Conservative MP and Reform UK spokeswoman Ann Widdecombe had escalated into something far more serious. Kerry, a former lift company worker who had never met Widdecombe, was charged on 20 July with one count of murder and rearrested on suspicion of the commission, preparation or instigation of acts of terrorism. The former politician’s body was found in her remote Devon home at Haytor, Dartmoor, days earlier. Police say the motive is tied to Kerry’s hatred for the Conservative Party and its leader.

The public house – the council house – on Byrley Road was never meant to become a crime scene of national significance. Yet it did. Steel barriers went up within days. Yellow crime-scene tape fluttered in the breeze. Neighbours, many of whom had waved to the quiet, bearded man who lived on his own with his dog, watched in disbelief as the once-familiar brick façade disappeared behind metal gates and police lights.

But the sealing-off was not the end of the story. In the days that followed, a completely different secret began to surface – one the neighbours were finally ready to tell.

“Everyone knew he was a bit odd,” recalls local resident Sarah Thompson, who has lived on the same street for 12 years. “He kept himself to himself. Always wore the same hoodie, carried a rucksack full of tools. But the day he was taken away, something felt… off. Like the air changed.”

Thompson was not alone. Across the street, retired window cleaner Derek Walsh sat on his garden wall and spoke openly to reporters from the Rotherham Advertiser and The Star.

“We all thought it was just another day,” Walsh says. “Then these vans turned up with big aerials. Next thing, the whole road is cordoned. My neighbour – the one opposite – saw officers carrying boxes out of Josh’s house at 4am. He thought it was just rubbish. Turns out it wasn’t. They found a box of newspapers – all Conservative Party leaflets, old editions, cut-out photos of Ann Widdecombe. And worse – there were notes. Handwritten notes. ‘She deserves it.’ ‘One less left-winger.’ ‘God will judge her.’”

The details emerged gradually, piecing together a picture of obsession that neighbours had only partially glimpsed.

Joshua Kerry had never been outgoing. Colleagues at the lift company remembered him as a “loner who always kept his head down.” After his father’s death last year, he moved into the two-bedroom council house alone. The dog he kept was the only companion he seemed to need. But hidden in the house’s attic, police later found a collection of materials that shocked even hardened investigators.

Conservative Party election posters. Cut-out images of Ann Widdecombe from newspapers. A folder labelled “Targets” containing her photograph, her Devon address and details of her speaking engagements. Handwritten diaries detailing “hatred for the party that betrayed the working man.” And, crucially, several travel receipts showing Kerry had driven to Devon on the exact day Widdecombe was murdered – though forensic analysis showed he never entered the property itself.

The counter-terrorism angle – initially thought to be a stretch – now appears central. Kerry’s previous convictions, though minor, included a charge of racially aggravated harassment. Neighbours speak of him muttering about “globalists” and “the establishment” for months. One resident, who worked night shifts at a nearby factory, recalls hearing Kerry on his phone late at night: “They’ll pay for what they’ve done. All of them.”

When the house was sealed, the shock wave rippled through Kimberworth Park. “I used to think he was just sad,” says one woman who asked not to be named. “Now I realise he was a ticking time bomb. We all said hello. We never asked questions.”

But the neighbours’ revelation went deeper than a fanatical hatred for one politician. Police sources have confirmed that the investigation has uncovered a wider pattern. Kerry’s social media history – deleted after his arrest – reportedly showed repeated posts expressing disgust at Conservative policies on immigration and welfare. One deleted post read: “If one of them falls, maybe others will follow.”

The sudden sealing of the house with steel barriers was not routine. It was a deliberate move to protect evidence. Forensic teams had found what they believe to be the murder weapon – a large kitchen knife – wrapped in a Conservative flag inside a false compartment in Kerry’s wardrobe. Footprints matching Kerry’s size were found near the Dartmoor scene, though experts stress they are not yet conclusive.

Yet as the steel doors clanged shut, something else happened. The very house that had become evidence became the scene of a community reckoning.

On 28 July, a petition was launched on Change.org demanding answers. “We lived next to this man for years,” it reads. “We thought he was harmless. Turns out he was planning something bigger. How many more of us are at risk?”

By early August, the picture is still emerging. Kerry remains in custody at HMP Full Sutton. His first appearance at Westminster Magistrates’ Court on 21 July saw him refuse to enter a plea. The next hearing is scheduled for September.

Neighbours who once ignored the odd man on Byrley Road are now divided. Some say the system failed them. “We should have reported him,” says Thompson. “We should have seen the signs.”

Others point to the bigger picture. “He lived alone,” says Walsh. “The state let him. That’s the real story.”

The public house on Byrley Road is now a closed chapter in the life of Joshua Kerry. But the story it tells is one of radicalisation, isolation and a community that learned too late how to look at its own doorstep.

And that, perhaps, is the most shocking truth of all.