He wasn’t just Wycliffe. Jack Shepherd was one of those rare, shape-shifting actors who seemed to carry a whole era of British drama in his eyes. From Leeds schoolboy to fine art scholar, from the Central School of Speech and Drama to the Royal Court, he built a career on restless intelligence and quiet fire. TV audiences met him as the rebellious Labour MP Bill Brand, a performance so raw it earned him a Bafta nod and a loyal following years before he ever walked Cornwall’s windswept crime scenes.

Yet the man behind the detective was far more than a TV legend. Shepherd was a National Theatre stalwart, an Olivier-winning stage actor in Glengarry Glen Ross, a director who took Shakespeare to the Globe and Broadway, a playwright, a saxophonist, a jazz pianist. In the end, he died as he so often acted: without fuss, with dignity, surrounded by his wife Ann Scott and their children Jan, Jake, Victoria, Catherine and Ben. What remains is a legacy etched across stage lights, television screens, and the hearts of those who watched him turn quiet intensity into something unforgettable.