‘Okay,’ I said nervously. ‘Let’s just hope he doesn’t spring any nasty surprises on us in there.’
The court clerk called us in bang on time and I was glad to be walking down the corridor flanked by my two ‘bodyguards’. Daniel appeared from another room and walked in behind us, far too close for my liking. I could feel his glare burning into the back of my head. My mouth was dry and my palms were clammy.
Anthony sat down on the front row next to Daniel, who had chosen to represent himself, apparently unable to afford a barrister of his own. Eleanor and I sat on the row behind. I looked around me and noted the witness stand over to one side and the judge’s desk at the front, set imposingly on a raised platform, presumably designed to intimidate.
Judge Barraclough did not keep us waiting. We all rose to our feet respectfully as he strode into his courtroom (even Daniel, who must have decided to work on his image) and my first comforting impression was that he looked like a kind man, not dissimilar to Santa Claus, with grey hair and steel-rimmed spectacles. He motioned to us all to be seated, but before he could speak, Daniel launched in, firmly establishing himself in everyone’s eyes as an arrogant arse.
‘Your Honour, could I just say, I don’t actually know why we’re here. I don’t even want a divorce. I have offered to go to mediation, but she has refused. This could all have been sorted amicably without the need for coming to court and wasting your time.’
Santa looked nonplussed but was firm in his response.
‘Mr Callaghan, I think it’s gone a little beyond that, don’t you? There is no question of this divorce not happening, so please sit down and let’s get on with the proceedings.’
Daniel, confident as ever, was not to be deterred.
‘Actually, Your Honour, there is something else. These proceedings should not be allowed to go ahead. She has hacked my time capsule, which is a computer back up device, as I’m sure you know,’ he added patronisingly. ‘She has stolen documents from it. I have done some research and I believe that evidence obtained in such a way is illegal and therefore inadmissible in this courtroom. I’m pretty sure she’s tracking me somehow as well, which is also illegal.’
Daniel paused and turned to look at me with a smug grin on his face. I noticed he was wearing glasses, which I had never seen him wear before, possibly in an attempt to make himself look more scholarly and barrister-like.
I refused to make eye contact with him and stared straight ahead at the judge, who spoke calmly, despite his obvious annoyance.
‘Mr Callaghan,’ he began patiently. ‘Perhaps I should remind you that this is my courtroom. Firstly, I would ask you as a matter of courtesy to please refer to your wife by her name and not simply she. Secondly, the problem, as I see it, is that the only evidence we have here today is that which has been provided by Mrs Callaghan. Your own response to repeated requests for documentation has been woefully inadequate. I presume you are not disputing the content of the documents your wife has provided, merely the way in which she obtained them. Is my understanding correct?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so, but…,’
The judge cut him off before he could continue. Go, Santa! I liked this man more each minute.
‘So I shall simply ask Mrs Callaghan herself to explain how she obtained the various exhibits she has provided, in particular, the ones from your computer back up device that you are so concerned about.’
Judge Barraclough looked at me and smiled encouragingly, waiting for an explanation. I had prepared for this moment and was almost looking forward to it. I looked the judge straight in the eye and told him all about the shared device (big emphasis on the shared of course) that had been kept in the office at home and how I had had to reset the password in order to access my own files, etc, etc. Daniel looked as if he were about to spontaneously combust and interrupted rudely,
‘That’s a lie, Your Honour. She never knew the password and never had access to that device. It’s all lies!’ he shouted indignantly.
Oh, the irony.
Unfortunately, the problem for Daniel was that he had told so many lies, nobody was ever going to believe him anymore, even when he was actually telling the truth. The little boy who cried wolf. I, on the other hand, had maintained my credibility and integrity throughout and therefore would be believed without question.
The judge did not attempt to hide the fact that he was irritated by Daniel already.
‘Mr Callaghan, please refrain from raising your voice in my courtroom. Mrs Callaghan’s explanation seems perfectly reasonable to me and I am prepared to accept what she has told me. As I mentioned before, we have very little else to work with in this case. As for your concerns about her having used some sort of tracking device, I believe that it is a fairly common practice in cases of adultery such as this, but it is not a matter for this court. We are here to deal with finances. Now, let’s stop wasting time and get on. There is an awful lot to deal with here.’
Ha! Me one, Daniel nil - I thought to myself, fist-pumping the air and doing a little victory dance in my imagination, while my face remained resolutely impassive.
Daniel let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head, muttering something under his breath about the whole thing being a farce and a stitch-up, endearing himself to the judge even more. I sat back in my chair and crossed my legs, maintaining a neutral expression with just a hint of the tragic heroine.
I was starting to enjoy this.
The opening gambit from my barrister as Daniel took the stand was priceless. Daniel’s response even more so.
‘So, Mr Callaghan, on a scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, how would you score yourself in terms of honesty?’
‘Ten of course,’ came the reply from the stand, without a moment’s hesitation.
I let out a muffled snort, as my barrister raised his eyebrows questioningly and the judge looked up abruptly in disbelief. Daniel noted the unanimous reaction and decided it may be appropriate to amend his reply.
‘Well okay, I admit I’ve been a bit of a naughty boy…eight and a half then.’
If he was hoping to get the judge on his side with his laddish quips and unrealistic perception of his own charm, he was sorely mistaken. Judge Barraclough took notes without commenting, but the look on his face was one of ill-disguised contempt. This was going better than I had dared hope.
Having established a clear picture of Daniel’s character for the judge, my barrister set about dissecting and analysing every piece of evidence in my two hefty ring binders. The process was made all the more tedious by Daniel’s evasive answers and Anthony’s absolute refusal to let him off the hook. I loved watching him sweat as he came out with more and more pathetic attempts to talk his way out of things.
Contradiction after contradiction, lie after lie.
Anthony missed nothing and was effectively tying him in knots, but still Daniel refused to deviate from his web of increasingly implausible lies. In a nutshell, Daniel was claiming that he earned a salary of around £30k a year and merely worked for a big American company these days, Jupiter Holdings, who had bought out his small packaging company a year or so earlier. According to him, the directors of Jupiter Holdings were entrepreneurial businessmen and had apparently chosen to buy numerous assets as investments, including a race yacht, a helicopter, several cars and motorbikes, all of which they had inexplicably exported from the USA and Europe to the UK and made available for Daniel’s personal use ‘as a bit of a perk’. Daniel himself owned nothing of course. He merely procured and managed the assets on behalf of the company.
Everyone in the courtroom knew that was utter nonsense. Everyone except Daniel, who frighteningly appeared to be totally convinced by his own ridiculous story. Thanks to my extensive PI work over the last few months, there was plenty for my barrister to get his teeth into and he grilled Daniel mercilessly, keeping him on the stand for the entire day.
The only uncomfortable moment for me came when Daniel tried to create a red herring and accused me of ‘stal
king’ his partner and her daughter. He actually had the cheek to say they had been so scared they had talked to the police about getting a restraining order against me.
Seriously? - I thought, offended.
‘Stalking’ was a bit dramatic. All I had done was check out where The Whale lived when I first found out about her. Admittedly I had gone there on a few different occasions to stake the place out and take photos, but I was pretty sure she had done the same to me.
His accusation was bad enough but what really got to me was the insulting reference he then made to them having clocked me hanging around outside the house in a ‘badly fitting blonde wig’. I glared angrily at Daniel, remembering how I had bought the wig to do an ABBA tribute with my friend Eva at a school charity concert we had put on a few years ago. I thought I looked quite good in that wig actually and lots of people had said I should go blonde after that. Anyway, what had that got to do with anything here?
The judge was clearly of the same opinion and moved things on. By the time 5 pm came, the poor man was ready for a rest. I looked at Daniel’s drained expression and hunched back and almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite. After a full day on the stand, he had failed spectacularly to offer up any credible information or evidence to refute the fact that he personally owned all of the cars on the insurance schedule I found and that he and Jupiter Holdings LLC were, in fact, one entity. He had floundered repeatedly in the face of an onslaught of difficult questions regarding his bank accounts, both business and personal. In particular, he was questioned about several large payments going out to Jane and Anita, the ‘mothers of his children’.
‘Why are you making what you claim to be payments for child maintenance from your business account Mr Callaghan?’ demanded my barrister.
Tricky, that one.
I smirked, but Daniel stuck to his story heroically.
‘As I’ve already said, they did work for the company from time to time, hence the payments,’ he replied curtly.
‘But surely child support is an entirely different matter, is it not Mr Callaghan? It all seems a little unorthodox to me.’
My barrister had explained to me before the court day that our game plan was all about raising doubt and discrediting Daniel in the eyes of the judge. The more he lied with his implausible answers, the more his credibility was called into question. That could only work in my favour. Anthony changed the subject abruptly, catching him off guard with his next question.
‘Why have you failed to declare the monies in your numerous American bank accounts, which contain not insignificant amounts, from what we have seen on the statements Mrs Callaghan found?’
‘I’ve told you already, she hacked my computer and none of this should be relevant,’ he snapped, avoiding answering.
The judge intervened sharply.
‘And I have told you, Mr Callaghan, that this court intends to review all of the evidence submitted by Mrs Callaghan. I will decide what is relevant and what is not. Now please respond to the questions.’
‘Of course, I apologise, Your Honour,’ he said tersely, clearly not meaning it. ‘Those accounts are empty. I closed them months ago. Why does nobody believe me when I say I’m in serious trouble financially?’
My barrister’s reply was delivered with an ironic smile:
‘I wonder why indeed, Mr Callaghan.’
He turned to address the judge.
‘I think that’s all for today from me, Sir.’
The judge looked palpably relieved and quickly rounded up proceedings for the day.
‘Thank you Counsel. Thank you Mr Callaghan. We will reconvene 9.30 am tomorrow.’
He addressed Daniel with one last parting shot.
‘I shall expect to see up to date bank statements for all the accounts in question Mr Callaghan, as well as documentation to support your claims that the various assets listed for consideration in these proceedings belong to other people, namely the directors of Jupiter Holdings. I will need full details of all directors of the company. If you fail to produce the relevant documentation, you may be held in contempt of court, which could result in serious consequences for you. Good afternoon.’
With that Judge Barraclough rose to his feet and left the courtroom, undoubtedly heading for a stiff gin and a much-needed nap.
Daniel turned to me with a venomous glare and hissed under his breath:
‘You lying cow. Don’t for a second think this is over. You’re going to get nothing, you do realise that, don’t you?’
I refused to engage, which made him all the more furious, letting my barrister take the lead. After all, I was paying him enough.
‘Please refrain from talking to my client and using abusive language Mr Callaghan. You need to leave the courtroom now or I will have to call security.’
We remained in the room for twenty minutes or so after Daniel had stormed out in a flurry of papers and mutterings, to give him time to get well away and avoid any further confrontation.
‘So what do you think?’ I asked Anthony tentatively.
‘I’m very happy with the way things went today and I think you definitely have the judge’s sympathy. But, as I told you before, this hearing is all about money and assets. Daniel’s conduct in your marriage, however appalling and distasteful, has little bearing on the outcome here and the judge cannot be seen to punish him for it in the financial settlement. It will all come down to how much value the judge believes there is in the various bank accounts and assets, balanced against how much of a debt he believes is owed to HMRC and all the other creditors Daniel has dragged out of the woodwork. Whatever the final amount comes to will effectively be split 50:50 between you in the interests of fairness,’ he concluded.
‘Fairness. You’re joking aren’t you?’ I asked bitterly. ‘I just hope to God there is something left for me when all the calculations are done.’
‘I’m certainly optimistic. The thing I am aiming to establish is that all the assets Daniel claims are owned by third parties are, in fact, owned entirely by him and, as such, should be in the marital pot for division between the two of you. At the same time, we need to be mindful of the threat of bankruptcy, although we still don’t know how true that all is. He is due a bit more of a grilling tomorrow morning and then it will be your turn on the stand. Daniel will, of course, have the opportunity to cross-examine you about your evidence, but it’s important you try to stay calm and don’t let him rile you. Just tell the truth and explain things as clearly as possible.’
Easier said than done - I thought to myself.
I was dreading the impending showdown. Daniel would know exactly what buttons to press and I would have to be careful not to lose my temper and spoil my ‘whiter than white’ image.
*****
Day two came around all too soon and, as Daniel took the stand for the second time, it was clear he was employing a change of tactics. Judge Barraclough was reading through a document he had been handed on arrival. He put the piece of paper down on the desk, sighed and turned to Daniel.
‘Mr Callaghan, what exactly is this?’ he asked wearily. ‘You have given me a letter, supposedly from a medical professional, making assertions about your current state of mind and questioning your mental fitness to cope with these proceedings. I understand from this that you are seeking a postponement of the hearing on medical grounds. Is that correct?’
‘That is correct Your Honour. My therapist says I have a schizophrenic personality disorder. That means I compartmentalise different elements of my life and it explains how I got myself into such a mess with so many different relationships. Unfortunately, all the stress recently has taken its toll on my mental health and I am being treated by the doctor for depression. It’s got so bad that I even have thoughts about taking my own life. I really don’t feel I can cope with all this at the moment.’
Therapist? Since when did he have a therapist? - I thought angrily, wondering where this was all heading.
Daniel even managed to give
a half-decent impression of someone who was honestly contrite and upset, but to my relief Judge Barraclough could see right through him. He pushed the letter to one side in disgust.
‘That may well be true Mr Callaghan, but I have no intention of accepting this letter in court as evidence of anything. The letter is not signed, there is no name of the ‘therapist’ anywhere on it, nor is it written on headed paper, as would be expected if it was indeed from a medical professional. In short, you could have typed this up yourself last night. We shall continue with the proceedings as planned. Thank you, Counsel,’ he said, dismissively.
- Oh, Daniel, when will you ever learn?
I could barely conceal my delight as I recognised the resigned look of a condemned man on his face.
Daniel’s cross-examination dragged on for the rest of the morning and when we finally broke for lunch, he was beginning to look decidedly grey around the gills as he trudged off in the direction of Costa. The Ferrari debate over the amended bill of sale in The Whale’s name resulted in an important victory for me, although I had to admit I had become obsessive about the Ferrari, embarking on a personal vendetta to ensure that The Whale did not get her hands on it. Surely no one could blame me for feeling like that?
When we returned for the afternoon session, it was my turn to take the stand and face my soon to be ex-husband. He rose to his feet and made a point of shuffling through his notes before clearing his throat and preparing to address me. I steeled myself.
‘So Grace. May we look at your Form E first of all, your declaration of finances. Anthony has submitted this on your behalf….’
He turned to my barrister as an afterthought.
‘May I call you Anthony?’
‘No.’
The reply was short, sweet and very much to the point.
‘As I said, Anthony…,’ Daniel continued, oblivious, forcing Judge Barraclough to interject crossly.
‘Mr Callaghan, I believe Counsel would prefer you to address him formally as Counsel or Mr Porterhouse.’
I suppressed a little snort of amusement at this latest blunder. I felt like I had been transported onto the set of a low-budget TV courtroom drama. Daniel had clearly been brushing up on his skills by watching Judge Rinder, although if his current performance was anything to go by, he needed to watch a lot more episodes.
Twenty Years a Stranger (The Stranger Series Book 1) Page 28