On the fourth, and last, day of the trial, the case was eventually settled after a long discussion between the two sets of lawyers. Turpin insisted that he had paid Miss Daniels money for food and rent, and he furiously denied ever raping or assaulting her. Miss Daniels was adamant that he had not only done so, but he had said that she was like all Americans, 'trying to push me around'. She insisted that Turpin had continued and told her in no uncertain terms that, 'I am the master, and in England when I say move they move.' According to Miss Daniels he once assaulted her and then said, 'If you make one step to call the police I'll break your neck and if I don't others will.' When she pressed him as to what exactly he meant, he pointed to his connections in the boxing world. The lawyers listened to their clients' claims and counterclaims, and sensing that these unsupported allegations could go on being made and denied for a long period of time, the potential six-figure settlement was reduced to $3,500 which a frustrated Turpin quickly agreed to pay, thus accepting culpability for some wrongdoings. Miss Daniels had decided to settle for this lesser amount against her lawyer's advice, but like Turpin she too was tiring of these proceedings. Turpin's lawyer quickly attempted to seize the moral high ground, and he issued a statement suggesting vindication for his client. However, a relieved Turpin was by now totally indifferent to any more legal posturing, and he was simply happy to be able to finally put the United States, and the memory of Miss Adele Daniels, behind him.
But what did he have to return to in England? The truth was, in 1955 Turpin was facing serious problems both in the ring and out of it. Two years earlier, after he had returned from the Olsen debacle, George Middleton had encouraged his fighter to undergo a full medical check-up. The doctors soon discovered that not only did Turpin have an enlarged liver, his hearing had grown worse, and his eyesight was deteriorating. In fact, during the voyage to New York for the Carl 'Bobo' Olsen fight, his brother Jackie had noticed that while they were doing their roadwork running around the upper deck of the Queen Mary, Turpin had a tendency to drift a little and sometimes even run into him. A medical examination soon determined that Turpin could see straight ahead, but his peripheral vision was restricted, which could have serious consequences for a fighter as he would not be able to see some punches coming. On 2 January, 1954, Turpin was fined two pounds at Abergate Magistrates' Court for being in possession of a rifle without a firearms licence, and the gun was confiscated. It was extensively reported in the press that during the court proceedings the fighter's hearing appeared to be impaired, for Turpin was often struggling to hear what was being said in the courtroom, but the British Boxing Board of Control, who could easily have withdrawn his boxing licence, chose to do nothing. In late January 1954, Turpin was charged and convicted of dangerous and careless driving and fined fifteen guineas, but his driving licence was not confiscated and he continued to drive recklessly. In fact, during the two years between his return from the loss to Olsen, and the Adele Daniels trial in New York, Turpin experienced great difficulty holding his life in order. His worries over his deteriorating relationship with his family, the impending court case in the United States, and his increasingly desperate financial situation, continued to trouble him. But what concerned others was not only what they considered to be his increasingly erratic behaviour, but his declining abilities in the ring.
After the loss to Olsen, Turpin began to lose to men who he should have comfortably beaten. In May 1954 Turpin suffered a first-round knockout in Rome and lost his European middleweight title to a light-puncher named Tiberio Mitri. This was a bout he should have won with ease, and this shocking loss marked the end of any further world title aspirations. Turpin's heart seemed to have gone out of fighting, and on those few occasions when he did muster the energy and focus to take a fight seriously, the press observed that this was clearly not the same fighter who, only a few years earlier, had fought so gallantly against the great Sugar Ray Robinson. His brother Jackie, who during this bleak period continued to spar with Randy, noticed that one moment his brother could be jovial and ready to joke around, and the next moment he could become extremely angry. These sudden and unexpected mood swings were now often accompanied by blinding headaches, but Turpin refused to seek any medical help. The defeats became embarrassing, particularly a fourthround knockout loss to a 'nobody' named Gordon Wallace in October 1954, a man who managed to floor Turpin four times and embarrass him so badly that Turpin temporarily retired. However, although Turpin's box office status began now to rapidly decline, he needed to fight to make money. In November 1956, Turpin did manage to defeat Alex Buxton and retain his British light-heavyweight title, and he was eventually able to claim a Lonsdale belt outright when he defended his light-heavyweight title for a third time in June 1957, winning a turgid fifteen-round decision over the little known Arthur Howard. But even this no-hoper managed to knock Turpin to the canvas three times during the course of the fight. There was little further glory in 1957, or during the first half of 1958. The halfdozen victories that he was able to accumulate were all achieved against woefully inadequate opposition, yet the cost of these 'triumphs' involved Turpin taking a great deal of physical punishment. The end came in Birmingham on 9 September, 1958, when Turpin was pummelled by a Trinidadian named Yolande Pompey who easily knocked him out in two rounds. The correspondent for the London Evening Standard summed things up. 'No doubts now — Turpin is just another fighter. . the whiplash punch and the split-second timing that once gave him world supremacy have gone. And Turpin must not blame us for noting their passing — with infinite regret.'
It was clear, even to Turpin, that in order to protect his health, and his dignity, he should hang up his gloves. The business of boxing had begun to eat into his body, and although he remained a handsome man who had avoided the hammered spread of a boxer's nose, there was no longer any point to his continuing for he had no title to his name and there was little hope of his ever winning one again. His eyesight was damaged, his hearing was in danger of deteriorating even further, and he no longer had the stomach for the rigid discipline of training and preparing for top-class fights. His professional record of sixty-four wins (forty-five by knockout), eight losses, and one draw was something that he could be proud of, but Turpin was financially destitute, and he had no idea what had happened to all the money that he had earned in the ring. With no other sources of income open to him, he reluctantly accepted George Middleton's offer of employment in his Leamington Spa scrapyard. Turpin began working a nine-to-five shift, driving around picking up old car engines and bits of metal, then taking them back to the scrapyard where he would let loose on them with a sledgehammer. His take-home pay varied between two and four pounds a week, which was a world away from his days of first-class travel, five-star hotels, and custommade clothes and shoes, but it enabled him to make some kind of a living and afford a small house and a car. But there remained huge debts to the Inland Revenue, and Turpin had no idea how to begin to deal with these issues. He had survived twelve years as a top-class fighter and all he had to show for it were arrears that day and night weighed heavily on his mind. However, one thing he was sure of was the fact that he was finished with boxing. A few years earlier, while trying to forget yet another shocking defeat at the hands of a lesser man, he had written a poem for his manager, George Middleton, expressing his feelings about the sport that had both made him and was now breaking him.