Philippa Langley stood in a parking lot near the site of the old Greyfriars Church in Leicester, England. She’d been working on a screenplay about Richard III and was curious to see where the maligned king had been buried nearly 500 years earlier. It was 2004, and what she found was the city’s Social Services Department: The church had long since been dismantled, and everyone simply accepted that Richard’s grave had been lost with it. There was little incentive to look for it, since the most popular theory about Richard’s remains held that they’d at some point been tossed into the River Soar by an angry mob.
But Langley wasn’t convinced. She knew that a fellow Richard III enthusiast, John Ashdown-Hill, had recently published research suggesting the king’s body could still be in the ground. Exploring the area that day, the then 43-year-old, who is slim and blonde, wandered into the smaller of the Social Service Department’s two parking lots, the unassuming oil-stained stretch of asphalt farthest from the old city walls. And that’s when it happened.
“I had goosebumps,” she says. “I just knew I was walking on his grave.”
Langley still doesn’t know how to explain it. Call it a psychic vision, lucky intuition, or a step through a hole in the space-time continuum: Whatever it was, it was enough to convince her that the remains of Richard III lay in the ground beneath her. If she could unearth them, science could shed new light on a period of history long masked in myth. But to start digging, Langley needed more than a hunch.
It was fate—in the form of an illness—that brought Langley to Richard in the first place. In the 1990s, after health issues caused her to give up a career in advertising, she became a voracious reader. One of the books that captivated her most was Paul Murray Kendall’s 1955 biography of Richard III, which argues that many of the murders attributed to Richard were actually committed by other people. “It absolutely intrigued me, because I couldn’t understand how Murray Kendall described Richard as loyal, brave, pious, and just. I needed to understand how this Richard could fit with Shakespeare’s Richard,” she says.
Shakespeare’s Richard is one of the most compelling and evil characters in literature, a “poisonous bunchback’d toad” with a withered arm who killed the king, his brother, his wife, his nephews, and his friends to gain the throne, only to die at the hands of the righteous avenger, Henry VII. “Since I cannot prove a lover, to entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain,” Richard proclaims in his opening soliloquy.
Shakespeare, of course, was a storyteller.