‘Ah, but, the police say that he wanted more. More what? Money, for money is the root of all evil. But Paul Dean didn’t want more money. He wanted family. That is what is more important to Paul than money. Family. So why on earth would he want to kill the two members of his family that he was closest to?
‘The defence will show how close the brothers and sister were, by talking to independent witnesses. We will show that Paul Dean had more than enough money – so much so that he gave generously to local charities. The company and his family were the two most important things in his life. And as such, the last thing he would have wanted to do would be to destroy them both.
‘Paul Dean is now the shadow of the man he used to be. He has lost so much. To lose his freedom would be the ultimate cruelty to an innocent man. So I would ask that during this trial you keep two things in mind. Firstly, evidence. Has the prosecution provided hard forensic evidence to show that Paul Dean killed his brother Kevin and his sister Jill? And secondly, have they done so by removing any reasonable doubt? For that is the crux of this trial, ladies and gentlemen. It is for the prosecution to prove Paul Dean executed the murders. And, as the defence will reveal, they can’t.’
43
The Trial
Paul shuddered in his glass cage in the dock. He felt like an ape in a zoo, or a shark at Sea World. Everywhere he looked people were gawping at him. The judge, the jury, the public, members of the court. He couldn’t get away from any of them. He was sat on a hard bench inside a cage of decorative wrought iron that had Perspex panels built into it, which reached upward towards the ceiling and must have been about twelve foot high. He felt very alone, even amongst so many people, for no one shared the dock with him, not a guard, nor his solicitor or barrister. The guards were either side of the Perspex box, outside it, yet poised to react to his every movement. His defence team were positioned in front of him, between him and the judge’s bench. All around was wood. Wooden lecterns, seats, jury seating. It added to the overwhelming feeling Paul was experiencing. The omnipresence of the Judge, who ruled over them, added to that sense of awe. Seated high above everyone, it meant that the man peered down at them, giving the impression that everyone in the room was beneath him. It was his courtroom, he ruled on behaviour, questioning, timing and points of law. In fact, his word was law and no one had better forget that, for fear of being thrown in jail themselves.
Paul tried to look surreptitiously at the jury, but for the moment they were only a sea of faces. It seemed impossible to pick out features. But no doubt he’d have plenty of time to study them over the next few weeks. The ‘twelve good men and true’, (which of course these days included women), about to decide his fate.
The whole thing still seemed to have a dream-like quality about it. As he checked his tie and his cuff links, he couldn’t believe the changes that had happened in his life in just a few short months. Once he’d been a happy and successful man, running the family company, surrounded by his brother, sister and his niece and nephew. Now he was broken, the firm was suffering badly from the death of two of its directors and the incarceration of the third. James Walker had managed to get him bail, eventually, but by that time the damage was done. People crossed the street to avoid him, he had an ankle tag and a curfew that he had to strictly adhere to. His employees looked sideways at him and he’d had to more and more rely on the management team for the day to day running of the company. Customers were in short supply as the news spread that Paul Dean was accused of murder. They were no longer renewing contracts and spouting lame excuses for not doing so.
He was putting all his faith in his defence team, his solicitor James Walker and his barrister brother Charles. They seemed a formidable team so far, who believed wholeheartedly in his innocence. He could only hope that the jury would be swayed by them in the spectacle about to unfold before them that was the British justice system.
44
The Trial
It was two long weeks later that the Defence got their turn in court. Paul had had to sit through agonising hours of testimony from policemen, forensic scientists, employees of the company and what seemed like Uncle Tom Cobbly and all! But no one could attest to Paul actually killing his brother and sister. Because no one had witnessed it. Because he hadn’t done it.
James had spoken to him several times about creating the right impression in court. He mustn’t stare at the jury. He mustn’t pull faces when he disagreed with something being said in court. He mustn’t shout out. Ever. No matter what was being said. He must listen and watch with polite interest. But he couldn’t look at anyone with disdain. Nor smile at anyone. He must try not to fiddle with his tie and cufflinks (which he did a lot apparently) and for God’s sake don’t yawn or fall asleep, was the final instruction.
Their next witness was Jill’s daughter. Maggie Dean was called to the stand. Paul shifted in his seat to get a better view of her as she came through the doors accompanied by a court official in his black robes. She was led to the witness box and sworn in. Paul noticed the slight tremor in her hands and the nervous licking of her lips. She’d had that habit ever since she was a child, in happier times, when she was young, and her mother was still alive.
The defence barrister, Charles Walker, led her through standard questions about her name, address and family connection. Then he wanted to know when she had last seen her mother? Maggie answered that she had seen her the week before Uncle Kevin’s funeral. Then Maggie had flown to India and returned with an elephant for Whipsnade Zoo.
‘I’d now like to ask you some personal questions, if that’s okay with you Maggie?’
Maggie seemed perplexed but nodded her agreement. Then appeared to realise what she’d done and said, ‘Yes, that’s alright.’
‘Excellent,’ beamed Charles.
But Paul thought it was a wolfish grin not a friendly one and his stomach clenched in stress.
‘Is this your birth certificate?’ Charles said, waving a piece of paper at the jury before handing it to Maggie. ‘Is that correct?’
Maggie glanced at it and said, ‘Yes, yes, it is.’
‘Excellent,’ beamed Charles again, looking more and more like the big bad wolf and Paul closed his eyes, all the better to not see the tableau being played out before him.
‘Could you read out your mother’s name?’
‘Jill Dean.’
‘Thank you. And your father’s?’
‘Douglas Bottomley.’
‘Yet your mother’s name is Dean?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie whispered.
‘Did your mother and father ever marry?’
Maggie hung her head and her long wavy hair obscured her face for a moment, before she gathered herself, lifted her chin and said, ‘No they didn’t.’
‘So just to be clear, Jill, your mother, never married.’
‘No, she didn’t.’
‘And your father?’
‘What about him?’
‘Your Honour is this going anywhere?’ the prosecution barrister leapt to his feet.
‘Well, Mr Walker? What say you?’
‘This is highly relevant to the defence, Your Honour,’ said Charles. ‘If you would permit me to continue?’
‘Very well but get a move on.’
‘Yes, Your Honour, thank you.’
Paul watched as Charles once more faced Maggie. ‘I understand that you have found your father. Is that correct?’
‘No,’ said Maggie.
‘Really? I put it to you that you have found him and that you were working with your father to kill your mother, to inherit her money and house, even if you couldn’t have the company yet?’
Paul was so stunned he very nearly fell off his bench. And he heard a collective gasp from the public gallery. Johnathan’s face was puce with anger and he was rapidly hissing to the second barrister sat next to him.
‘No!’
‘So you don’t know who your father is?’
‘No,’ repeated Maggie.
/> ‘You never wanted to find him?’
‘No!’
‘You didn’t contact the Salvation Army to try and trace him?’
‘No,’ said Maggie, but her voice was getting quieter, as though all the fight was going out of her. It was clear to Paul that she had been lying and no doubt clear to everyone else in the court as well.
‘You didn’t find him and have a meeting?’
Maggie refused to answer, shaking her head behind her curtain of hair.
‘You’ve been meeting him regularly every Friday afternoon, haven’t you?’
Suddenly it all seemed too much for her, as Maggie broke down in tears and confessed that Charles was right, she had been meeting her father.
Once she had composed herself and refused the Judge’s offer of a few minutes recess, so she could pull herself together, Charles said, ‘I put it to you again that you have been working with your father in a plan to kill your mother.’
‘No!’ she screamed, immediately becoming emotional again. ‘He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t!’
Maggie sat down on the seat behind her, and her sobs echoed around the large court room in the stunned silence.
‘I think that’s all for now,’ said the Judge, looking at his watch. ‘Let’s adjourn for the day. You may leave the stand, Miss Dean. We will continue with this tomorrow. The court is adjourned.’
‘All rise,’ came the instruction and everyone duly complied, accompanied by a rush to the door from those in the public gallery, all with mobile phones in their hands. Paul tried to take several deep breaths. He badly needed to calm down. But his galloping heart beat and shaking hands had other ideas.
45
The Trial
The next morning Maggie Dean was far more composed. She managed to answer further questions from Charles without becoming hysterical and also dealt well with the questioning of the prosecuting barrister. Last night Paul had been desperate to see Maggie and comfort her and find out what on earth this nonsense with her father was about. But that wasn’t allowed, Charles said. She was still under oath and due for further questioning, so Paul couldn’t get involved until Maggie had finished giving evidence.
All that meant that last night was very difficult for Paul. He’d had a couple of drinks after a very light meal and as a result had become quite maudlin. He did appreciate everything that James and Charles were trying to do for him. He was back in his own home after the nightmare that had been prison and he knew they had strategies that he didn’t know the details of. That’s why Maggie’s evidence had hit him so hard. He’d had no warning and neither had Maggie. And he missed Kevin and Jill. Oh, how he missed them. Not having a family of his own meant that he was perhaps closer to them than if he’d been married with children. He supposed he’d never met the right woman. But nearer the truth was that Dean Engineering was all the woman he’d ever needed. The company was his whole life, through choice, and the thought of losing it felt like how losing a wife must feel.
After Maggie concluded her evidence, Douglas Bottomley was called to the stand. Paul could feel the anticipation in the air. There had been a queue to get into the court that morning apparently and he didn’t doubt it. After the revelations yesterday, everyone was hoping for more of the same this morning.
As he waited, Paul mused about his arrangements at home. He was confined to the house from 8pm to 8am due to the electronic tag on his ankle which was a bloody pain. He liked to put in a few hours at the office once the trial was over for the day and the 8pm limit severely restricted the time he could spend there. But at least the house was clean again. James had found him a wonderful Polish girl, who cleaned like a dream and didn’t care about Paul’s current bad standing in the community. After her first day Paul was so impressed he gave her extra hours and a pay rise. So now his house was clean, his washing and ironing done and an evening meal prepared, six days a week. What could be better?
What could be better, would be to be found innocent.
The team believed it was looking more and more likely that he would, although James had cautioned that optimism. It was too soon to tell, he’d warned. Maybe today would bring more good news. Paul crossed his fingers, as he sat there in the dock alone, but then remembered that he was no longer a young lad who believed in wishes and fairies and quickly uncrossed them.
Charles was looking his usual dapper self, but then so did the other one, Jonathan or whatever his name was. Both had an air of gravitas, but there was something else as well that they possessed. Confidence, he supposed. Confident in their abilities, their class, their money. Paul figured he’d looked like that once. Maybe still did up to a point, after all he was wearing tailor made suits and shirts and handmade leather brogues. Looking at the jury, dressed in chain store clothing, without expensive haircuts or make up, Paul realised that he'd never looked like that. He’d always had a privileged life and upbringing. He knew his place in the world and what was expected of him. He was to run Dean Engineering and had spent his whole life immersed in it. The members of the jury hadn’t had the opportunities he'd had, and he wondered if they resented him for it and because of that resentment, would find him guilty. As Paul caught some of them studying him back, he closed his eyes against them and opened then again once Douglas Bottomley was ensconced in the witness box.
‘Mr Bottomley,’ began Charles. ‘Do you know the defendant Paul Dean?’
‘I recognise him, but I’ve never talked to him.’
‘Where do you recognise him from then? Have you seen him before?’
‘In the newspaper, like.’
‘Not from family photos?’
‘What? He’s not my family.’
‘No, but he’s your daughter’s. So, I ask again, have you seen Paul Dean in photographs?’
‘Yes, suppose so.’
‘From photos shown to you by Maggie.’
‘Yes.’
‘You met several times, did you not, you and your daughter?’
‘Yes.’
‘In fact, on a weekly basis.’
‘Yes.’
By now Paul was finding the ‘yes’ answers boring and also irritating. He hoped Charles would move on before he lost the jury, as some of their eyes were glazing over already. Even Douglas was becoming bored, you could hear it in his voice.
‘And at these meetings you would talk about her family.’
‘I suppose.’
‘And in particular, her mother, Jill Dean, with whom you’d had a relationship some twenty-odd years ago.’
‘I suppose.’
‘And during those meetings you conspired with Maggie to kill Jill Dean.’
‘What?’ That had woken Bottomley up, as well as the rest of the court. ‘No, of course we didn’t. How could you think such a thing?’
‘Didn’t you and Maggie want her out of the way?’
‘No! I already said that.’
‘So are you saying that Maggie had no part in it.’
‘Part in what?’
Douglas Bottomley was beginning to sweat, Paul noticed. A good sign? Probably. He hoped Charles would keep the pressure up.
‘Oh, so it was a solo effort was it?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You worked on a plan all on your own?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, perhaps with your wife then?’
‘Leave her out of this. She knows nothing about any of it.’
‘Nothing of your plans then?’
‘I didn’t have any plans.’
‘Then what did you mean ‘she knows nothing about it’?’
‘Nothing about Maggie that’s all I meant.’
‘You’ve managed to keep this quiet for 6 months now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d never told her about Maggie. I didn’t want her to think I’d been lying to her all these years.’
‘But you had!’
‘Only by omission.’
‘Ah, so that makes it alri
ght then?’
By now Douglas was wriggling on the end of Charles’ hook. Would he managed to land the catch? Paul leaned towards the Perspex screen, willing Charles on.
‘No, no I didn’t mean that.’
‘Let’s talk about your little tête-à-têtes with Maggie.’
‘What about them?’
Douglas seemed confused by the sudden switch in questioning and looked around the courtroom as though the answer lay in the wooden panelling.
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Oh, her, me, her childhood, that sort of stuff.’
‘Her mother?’
‘Well I suppose so.’
‘What about her mother?’
‘I just wondered how she was, how she’d managed over the years.’
‘Rather nicely,’ said Charles. ‘At least compared with you. What is your occupation Mr Bottomley?’
‘Um, unemployed. But what’s that…’
‘Ah, for how long?’
‘A few years now.’
‘That would be 10 years wouldn’t it?’
‘I suppose.’
‘So, meeting Maggie, seeing how rich her and her mother were these days and you had what? Nothing? I can see how you would be tempted.’
‘Tempted to do what?’
‘Why, murder her mother and get Maggie to give you what you would have had if you’d done the right thing and married Jill and taken your responsibilities seriously, all those years ago.’
Bottomley hung his head, but whether in shame or an attempt to wish himself elsewhere, Paul didn’t know.
‘But that’s not something you’re good at is it? Taking responsibility? Prefer to live off the State don’t you?’
‘Now look here!’
‘Answer the question, Mr Bottomley.’ Charles’ tone was curt.
‘I suppose.’
‘But killing Jill for her money would have been a way of putting all that right, wouldn’t it? Getting what you should have been entitled to. Did you kill Jill, Mr Bottomley?’
A Grave Death Page 10