Joy slowly sucked in a painful breath while moving over in her bed; her ribs burning. Her two eyes were bruised yellow; much like they had been for her first full month inside prison.
‘I didn’t mean to hit you. Or kick you. I just wanted to celebrate. And I took offence to you turning me down, that’s all. Come on. You’re my best friend. I love you.’
But for the entirety of the one-hour Nancy was sat on the landing with her back to Joy’s cell door, only distracted by Mathilda strolling by on three separate occasions as she walked her rounds, Joy didn’t answer her pleas for a truce. She kept quiet as a mouse.
When the call came up for all prisoners to return to their cells, Nancy slid a note under Joy’s door and then slumped back to her own bed for lock up.
Joy turned on her mattress upon hearing the note being slid inside, sucking in further breaths through gritted teeth. Then she mustered up enough energy to bend forward, through the pain, and pick it up.
I love you. I can’t go on without you. x
She squinted at it; feeling it odd that Nancy was going on and on about how much she loved her when she had never so much as uttered that word before. Perhaps Nancy’s emotions were being smothered by guilt. Or perhaps she was just being the manipulative and conniving cunt Joy knew she could be.
‘Fuck you, Nancy,’ she whispered to herself.
Then she heard a key turning in her lock and, in a panic, she grabbed at her bible and slid the note inside the back cover, just before Aidan appeared.
‘I heard she was sitting outside your door the whole of the past hour. You need to make a formal complaint about the beating. We can’t do anything until you do. Come on, do this. We can get you off this wing, onto another one.’
‘You’ve been saying that to me for years, Aidan,’ Joy said, while grimacing in pain as she sat back down on her mattress.
‘She’s never gonna leave you alone, y’know?’
‘I’m fine, Aidan. Anyway, I’ll be getting out soon.’
Aidan pursed his lips, while staring at the bruises under Joy’s eyes.
‘Joy. There’s still every chance you are going to spend the rest of your life in prison. Nancy’s in here for a long time, too. You don’t want this to be a regular occurrence.’
‘I told you before, Aidan,’ Joy said, grimacing again while pressing a hand to her ribs, ‘you’re not me Da. You can’t tell me what to do. So, with the utmost politeness and respect, can you please just fuck off and leave me alone?’
Aidan raised his eyebrows, then let them drop back down before he paced out of her cell, slamming the door shut behind him.
Joy slapped the pillow in frustration. Then she turned to face her two boys, as the tears began to stream down her face.
❖
Delia licks the tip of her thumb, then flips over the top sheet of paper and continues to read.
She has been going through the testimonies of the twelve females from Pennsylvania who had provided witness statements and proof that they once purchased a Pink Sasoon Ladies Hooded Top, in size small, for the past half-hour. She’s just beginning to read through the last of these statements when Aisling walks into her office; a bottle of water, a packaged sandwich and a fruit bar in her hands.
‘Here you are, Delia,’ she says. ‘They didn’t have the ham and cheese one, so I just got you plain ham again.’
‘You’re a darling, Aisling. Thank you.’
Aisling places the lunch on her boss’s desk, beside the shards of glass that have fallen from the photo frame and then turns to leave.
‘So, eh… what did you make of Tobias Masterson’s testimony this morning, Aisling?’ the judge asks, looking over the rim of her glasses at her assistant.
Aisling smiles to herself before spinning back to face Delia. She loves being asked about the trials; feels really valued when probed for her opinion.
‘Well, if the chance is now just one in three of that being Joy Stapleton in the footage and not one in fifteen as we’ve always thought, then that sure is a big difference… Those statements you are reading, they sure do make a huge difference to this trial, right?’
‘But what about Bracken’s cross examination… suggesting that Masterson couldn’t have known everything; that it may not even be a small-sized hooded top in that footage?’
‘I mean, it was good cross… under the circumstances. You’ve taught me the difference between good and bad cross. And there aren’t many better than Gerd Bracken at delivering one.’ Delia smirks a proud grin. She loves how enthusiastic and studious Aisling is about her chosen career. She reminds her of herself. ‘But is his cross that pertinent when you think of how coincidental it would all have to be to actually align? I mean, this footage was shot one-thousand yards from where Reese and Oscar were buried. On the night detectives are certain they were buried – the night before Joy rang in her missing person’s report. It’d be some coincidence to think that isn’t Joy in that footage, right?’
Delia winks at her assistant.
‘Thank you, Aisling,’ she says. ‘I, eh… appreciate your input. Now, I got to get through this.’ She nods down at the paperwork on her desk.
‘Okay, well, I’ll leave you to read while you are eating lunch. I’ll knock on your door ahead of the resumption.’
Delia rips open the sandwich packaging as Aisling exits her office and takes a large bite before continuing to read. But she doesn’t get very far before she is disturbed again. This time by her phone vibrating against her desk.
A text message.
From Eddie Taunton.
Convincing testimony today, huh?
‘Conniving mother fuc—’
Delia only gets out half of her mumble, just about stopping herself from producing another swear word. She hadn’t sworn since she was a teenager up until this week. Now she can barely stop herself; certainly not when Eddie Taunton pops into her mind.
She picks up her phone and finger taps a response.
Depends on your definition of the word ‘convincing’.
Then she places her phone back down and continues reading. The witness statements have all been flawlessly prepared, clearly overseen by Jonathan Ryan for a final edit before they were signed by the witnesses and handed over to the judge. The statements don’t throw up any surprises. Most detail how and when each witness purchased a Pink Sasoon Ladies Hooded Top from Urban Outfitters. Some even go so far as providing photographic evidence of them wearing the top. One statement even had the actual receipt from the hoodie’s purchase, dated October 10th – the exact same day Joy had purchased hers.
Some investigative work had been done ahead of the original trial to track down Pennsylvanian owners of the hooded top, but the prosecution didn’t deem it overly necessary. They were certain Joy was the only person in Ireland with one of those hooded tops, and they were convinced they would get a conviction from a jury based on that. Besides, it wasn’t that easy in those days. But the evolution in social media in the years since Joy was first convicted has been so dramatic that it became much easier to track down folk anywhere in the world. And so, when Ryan put out social media posts to Pennsylvanian folk with an image of the Pink Hooded Top, it was no surprise that a few women, who had purchased one back in the day, finally came across the posts. He knew if he got statements from as many of those women as possible, then that would be viewed as pretty convincing evidence to a judge. He outdid his expectation. He got twelve. Leaving the chance of the woman in the CCTV footage being Joy as only one in three in the whole world.
Delia flipped over the penultimate page of the written testimonies but got distracted by her phone vibrating again just as she was finishing up.
She’s guilty. Can only be her in that footage.
Delia stares at the message, then puffs out a snort of laughter. Not because she finds the text particularly funny. But because she still can’t get over the brazen manner in which Taunton is transparently blackmailing her. So, she thumbs at her phone again.
I will be the judge of that.
Then she places the phone back down on her desk and gets back to her reading.
‘Judge McCormick,’ her desk phone spits out Aisling’s voice, causing Delia to tut, ‘Mr Bracken and Mr Ryan are both here to see you.’
Delia holds her two hands over her face and silently grunts into them.
‘Send them in, Aisling,’ she says.
A light knock is heard at the door, before it swings open and Bracken appears, grinning his veneers into the dimly lit office. Jonathan Ryan, taller but much slimmer, is stood behind him, peering over his shoulder.
‘Come in, gentlemen. I’ve only the one visitor’s chair here, so rather than look favourably on one of you, how about you both just take one step inside, close that door behind you and stand where you are… what’s the issue? Why are you here before I’ve even finished my lunch?’
‘Ma’am,’ Ryan says, ‘I have reservations about the cross examination Mr Bracken has led me to believe he has planned for the next witness.’
Delia sighs loudly, before rifling through the larger document on her desk until she locates the sheet of paper she is looking for.
‘Mr Bracken, is this true?’
‘Your Honour, the next witness cannot be relied upon to offer honest testimony.’
‘Excuse me, Mr Bracken. I’ll be the judge of that. In fact, I already have been the judge of that. I’ve allowed the witness. You’ve known this witness would be testifying for weeks and although you raised an argument against it before, you are already aware of my judgement on this. Testimony from this witness is valid. Very valid.’
Bracken sucks on his cheeks, then slides himself into the chair opposite the judge, crossing his legs as he sits.
‘With all due respect, Your Honour. This witness has history of very heavy Class A drug use.’
‘She’s clean now!’ Ryan spits.
Delia waves an open palm upwards.
‘Mr Bracken… firstly, stand!’ she says. He heaves himself to his feet and throws his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Secondly, you’re bringing this argument to me at the eleventh hour. I’m not quite sure what your ploy is with regards delaying this trial. You seem to be throwing clinks into the mix constantly. We spent much of the first day of this trial arguing witnesses and written statements when you had been made privy to the witness structure three full weeks before the trial began. I thought you were a much better prepared defence lawyer than this, Mr Bracken.’
‘Your Honour, with all due respect, I am one of the most prepared lawyers in this country. I am not delaying this trial at all… in fact, I am aiming to have a quick resolution to what has clearly been a grand miscarriage of justice. I am eager to get my client out of prison as soon as possible.’
‘Well then what is your problem, Mr Bracken?’
‘The fact that the next witness is a heavy drug user and cannot be relied upon to tell the truth.’
‘You have known about her appearing as a witness for quite some time… this is what I mean by you coming to me with issues at the eleventh hour.’
‘Your Honour, this witness—’
‘No. No, Mr Bracken. We will not be having this discussion now. The time for that argument was weeks ago. You raised some concerns then, but I informed you of my decision. And my decision still stands.
‘But, Ma’am.’
‘Enough!’ Delia shouts. She picks up her sandwich and takes another large bite from it, leaving Bracken and Ryan standing and staring at her as she chews.
A light knock is heard at the door, before Aisling enters.
‘Delia, shall I delay the restart of the trial, seeing as you three are…’
‘No need,’ Delia says, swiping the sleeve of her robe across her lips and then snatching at her bottle of water, ‘these two gentleman will return to the courtroom ahead of resumption. I shall be there in a couple of minutes.’
‘But, Your Honour—’
‘Off you go, you two,’ Delia says, brushing her hand at them, unwilling to listen to any more of Bracken’s groaning.
The two lawyers turn around like two sorrowful teenage boys to be greeted by the infamous hooded top, hanging from the back of Delia’s door. Then they pull that door open and leave.
‘I’m sorry,’ Aisling says. ‘I didn’t want to disturb what was going on… but just felt I’d need to inform the court clerks if there was going to be a delay. Is everything okay?’
‘No problem at all, Aisling,’ Delia says as she twists the lid back on to her water bottle. ‘Just Mr Bracken chancing his arm, trying to get the next witness null and voided.’
Aisling thins a smile as she picks up the empty sandwich packaging from Delia’s desk.
‘I’ve ordered a new frame for this photo,’ she says. ‘From Amazon. It should arrive by the end of the week.’
‘You are a darling,’ Delia says as she stands up, sweeping the crumbs down her robe with her fingers while taking in her husband’s smile through the cracked frame. She misses him so much. No more so than when she has a major decision to make. Bouncing arguments off Callum is just not the same as bouncing them off Ben. Callum didn’t quite inherit the genius level of constructive nous his father had, even if he is proving to be a fine trial lawyer himself.
‘Right, I need to get back to the grind. This witness should be interesting.’
‘She sure will,’ Aisling says. ‘If anybody knows the defendant’s state of mind straight after she was found guilty, it’s this witness, right?’
Delia arches one of her eyebrows and nods slowly at Aisling, then she makes her way back down the corridor, turning left to face the young woman dressed in black up ahead of her who carries out her usual routine of opening the side door and nodding into it to note the imminent arrival of the judge.
Delia glances across at Bracken as she climbs the three steps up to her chair, then she knocks at her desk once with her gavel, silencing the murmurs of chatter.
‘Mr Ryan,’ she says, ‘can you please call your next witness?’
‘I can indeed,’ Ryan says getting to his feet. ‘Your Honour, we call Miss Christine Jabefemi to the stand.’
Christine Jabefemi
Ain’t normal I see the inside of a courtroom. The four times I been sent down, I cut deals every time. I always admit I’m guilty if I get caught. That way I get less time. Don’t think I’d ever have the patience to sit through a trial anyway… barely able to sit through this. But I promised Jonathan Ryan that I’d be here, dressed all nice and being all sober. So, here I am. Dressed all nice. And being all sober. Don’t know how people manage to do this all day, e’ry day.
‘Ms Jabefemi, thank you for taking the time to be with us today.’
‘Call me Christy,’ I say, ‘Christ with an extra Y.’
He smiles. Like a little pretty boy. The exact same smile he offered me when I first asked him to call me Christy all those months ago now, after he dropped by to talk to me bout this retrial. He wanted to know all about my relationship with Joy after she had been first sent to Mountjoy.
‘Christy it is then,’ he says. ‘So, Christy, can you tell the court about a prison sentence you served in 2012?’
I snort, then move the microphone closer to me.
‘I was in for burglary and theft in 2012. For a seven-year stretch. Ended up doing almost three years. Should have been less. But the fuckin’ parole board—’
‘Excuse me, the witness cannot use such language in the courtroom,’ the judge says, smackin’ her hammer off her desk like a crazy lady. If she thinks that scowl is supposed to frighten me she can think again. I ain’t the bitch on trial here today.
‘We apologise, Your Honour,’ Jonathan says as he walks towards me. He leans in, covering the microphone with his hand.
‘Christy… as I said, no foul language. Let’s just get through the questions and answers like we said, okay?’
I wink at him. He’s such a cute little man-boy; I likes me them cute li
ttle man-boys sometimes; especially if they have dimples like he does. He walks backwards a few steps, then looks up at me again.
‘Christy, if you could just answer the question directly… You were sentenced for seven years in 2012 for burglary and theft, and served almost three years of that in prison?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay… and you happened to be sent to Mountjoy on September sixth of that year, yes?’
‘Yeah.’ I say nodding my head. Though I only know that cos he told me. Otherwise I don’t remember dates.
‘That happens to be the day Joy Stapleton was also sentenced. Is it true that you both travelled together to Mountjoy Prison in the back of a police van?’
‘Yep.’
‘Good. Now, you spoke on that journey and when you entered the prison, you were both sent to the same wing within the prison, yes?’
‘Uh-huh. Elm House.’
‘Did you strike up a friendship with Mrs Stapleton?’
‘Yeah. We sure did. I guess. I mean we spent time with each other. I tried to protect her. I’d been in prison befo’, so I just tried to help with the small details. Ye know it’s the small details in prison. How to get your hands on a new toothbrush. What books you can take from the library… how to keep yoself warm at night… those kinda details.’
‘You, in a sense, took her under your wing, correct?’
The Coincidence (The Trial Trilogy) Page 19