Gareth Dawson Series Box Set

by Nathan Burrows

  “Your Honour, I would like to introduce this witness as an expert witness in the analysis of blunt force trauma to the head.” Judge Watling looked across at Miss Revell when Paul asked this. She half got to her feet before replying.

  “No objection, Your Honour,” the prosecutor said. “She seems eminently qualified in the field.” I looked back at Dr Klein who put her hands together as if she was praying and smiled at the jury. To my surprise, most of them were smiling back at her, even Albert who didn’t seem to pay attention at the best of times.

  “Your Honour, I would also like to take this opportunity to remind the jury that the forensic accounts from the original trial have been entered into evidence with no challenges from the prosecution.” I saw Miss Revell grimace, and then nod her head.

  “Very well,” Judge Watling said.

  “Dr Klein,” Paul continued. “I asked you to review both the murder scene itself and also the post-mortem results. Could we go through your analysis of the murder scene first, please?”

  “Of course,” Dr Klein replied. “I do hope that you’ve all had breakfast, though,” she continued, looking at the jury. I looked up at the public gallery, concerned for a moment that Robert’s parents were still there, but they’d not returned this morning. The usher was manoeuvring the television back into place as Dr Klein introduced the material she was going to talk about.

  “Now obviously I wasn’t involved at all at the time of the incident, so my analysis of the scene is based on the reports. I commenced with a thorough examination of the murder scene reports, provided by the police.” She looked at the public gallery and catching Malcolm's eye, smiled at him and I realised that they must know each other. Dr Klein wasn’t in the courtroom when Malcolm was giving evidence, and I wondered how their paths had crossed. “I must say they did a thoroughly good job of documenting the scene. It made the analysis so much easier for me.” I looked up at Malcolm. Was he blushing?

  The usher brought the screen to life and Laura walked over to the television carrying a laptop. She plugged some cables in and the television flashed a couple of times before showing a mirror image of the laptop screen. Laura opened up a presentation, and on her way back to the defence table she handed Dr Klein a small remote control.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Dr Klein said to Laura before turning back to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid that some of the photographs in this presentation are rather gruesome. I do hope that everyone’s okay with that?” I wondered what would happen if one of the jurors put their hand up and said they weren’t, but none of them did. Dr Klein pointed the remote control at the laptop, and the screen changed to a photograph. I recognised it straight away as the alleyway behind The Griffin pub, and Robert’s body lying at an angle in the middle of the photograph would identify the location for everyone else.

  “This is a photograph showing the entire scene, illuminated by police spotlights. As you can see, there is the body of the victim, identified as Mr Robert Wainwright, in the centre of the frame. Can I ask you to pay attention to the position of his body in the photograph?” Dr Klein pressed the remote control again, and the picture changed to a zoomed in image of Robert. He was lying on his side, pretty much exactly as I’d left him, facing towards the back wall of the alleyway. The only difference between how he looked in the photograph on the screen and how he’d looked when I’d left him was that in the photograph, his head was completely smashed in. On the screen, a large depression in his skull was obvious, as were the flecks of white tissue splattered around. Were those bits of bone? Or was it brain tissue? I felt slightly nauseous, and as I looked at the jury several of them looked how I felt. I saw juror number three, Ella, dab at her forehead with a tissue as she looked at the screen.

  “Now the piece I want to focus in on is the position of the body, and the injuries that the victim has sustained. I will go into more detail on the injuries later, so for the time being this is just an overview,” Dr Klein said. “As you can see, the victim is lying on his side with his face toward a wall. He is approximately eight inches away from the wall. The scene was examined carefully by the forensic science team who confirmed the body had not been moved. The post-mortem also confirmed this, as there was grit embedded in the other side of the victim’s face.” Dr Klein paused, looking at the jury as if she was assessing whether or not they understood her. “When the fatal blows took place, the victim was in exactly the position you see him in now.”

  Dr Klein looked at the bench just behind Laura as a man who I’d not noticed before got to his feet and walked into the middle of the courtroom. There was another man sitting on the same bench and from how they were both dressed, I figured that they were together. They both wore grey suits, white shirts and black ties, and for a moment they reminded me of the two men who’d attacked Robert before I got to him, although they looked nothing like the attackers that night. “This is my colleague, Daniel,” Dr Klein said. “Daniel, if you would, could you assume the position that the body in the photograph is in, please? If you would use the judge’s bench as the wall, that would be great.”

  Daniel looked at the screen, and lay on the floor of the courtroom, manoeuvring his body into an approximation of Robert’s. He lined himself up so he was the same distance away from the judge’s bench as the wall was in the photograph. Dr Klein looked back at the screen, pressing the remote control. On the screen, a red line appeared superimposed across Robert’s head. It intersected with the depression in the side of his skull, and pointed away from the wall and into the main part of the alleyway.

  “This line represents the angle of the blows on the victim. It has been calculated from the injury patterns and the blood spatter on the wall behind the victim using a standard set of forensic algorithms.” She pressed the button again, and an image of a baseball bat replaced the red line. “As you can see, this was the angle that the bat was being held at when the blows were struck.

  “This is my other colleague, Jeremy,” Dr Klein said as the other grey suited man got to his feet. He was holding a baseball bat in his hand, and I saw the surprise on the faces of some of the jury as they saw it. He stepped forward and walked towards his colleague on the floor. “Jeremy, please could you kneel down with the baseball bat in your right hand.” Jeremy did as he was instructed. “Now raise and lower the bat as if you were hitting Daniel. But please, don’t actually hit him.” There were a few nervous laughs from the jury bench and as I looked across at them, I could see that Dr Klein had their complete attention. As if he was hitting his colleague in slow motion, Jeremy raised the bat over his shoulder and brought it down until it was lying across the other man’s face. “Could you do it again please?” Dr Klein asked. He did as instructed and the bat ended up in the same position. Dr Klein pressed the button again and another line appeared on the screen, but this time it was at an opposite angle to the first one. The two lines made a large X over Robert’s face.

  “The second line is the angle that Jeremy is showing us now. As you can see, it’s quite different to the actual angle of the bat as it struck the victim.” Most of the jurors were leaning forward and staring at the screen. Several of them were looking at the screen, down at Daniel on the floor, and then back at the screen again. “Jeremy, is it possible for you to adjust your position so you are striking Daniel at the actual angle the victim was struck?” Jeremy pantomimed moving around Daniel with the bat, trying to match up the angles, but the judge’s bench stopped him getting anywhere close.

  “Now, could you swap the bat to your left hand please, and repeat the same motion?” Dr Klein asked. When Jeremy changed the bat to his left hand, the angle matched the line on the screen perfectly.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr Klein said. “This rather simple demonstration proves only one thing.” Paul looked at her, his eyebrows raised in a question. Dr Klein said nothing for a few seconds, building the dramatic tension in the courtroom by a notch.

  “And what is that Dr Klein?” Paul asked.r />
  “The blows which killed the victim were delivered by someone holding the baseball bat in their left hand. Of that, there is no doubt.”

  The silence in the courtroom was deafening. I could see several of the jurors exchanging glances as they connected Paul’s earlier question in my testimony about which hand I had used to pull the bat out of my jacket. Paul looked up at the clock. It was almost ten o’clock.

  “Your Honour,” Paul said, and I knew what he about to say. “The next part of my case is a change in direction. May I suggest we break for lunch at this point?”

  I was led back to the holding cells by Mr Jackson, and true to form, his colleague buggered off for a smoke. As I sat in the cell waiting for a cup of tea, I shifted on the bed to take the pressure off the stitches in my backside. I’d ended up with fourteen, the nurse had told me, and would have them in for the next week. I hoped that they wouldn’t hurt as much coming out as they had done going in. Budget cuts in the prison system seemed to apply to anaesthetic as well as everything else.

  The door to the main holding area flew open, and Paul walked through accompanied by Laura. I looked at her, hoping to see a Sainsbury’s carrier bag with a prawn sandwich, but she was empty handed. Something lukewarm out of a microwave it would be then.

  “Good, good, good. That’s a wicket taken right there, my boy,” Paul said as he walked toward my cell, grabbing a couple of plastic chairs as he did so. “What do you think of the lovely Dr Klein, Gareth?”

  “She’s good, isn’t she,” I replied.

  “Oh yes, very good indeed,” Paul said. “And she’s only just getting started.”

  Mr Jackson walked over and handed me a cup of builders’ tea. He knew I took two sugars, so there wouldn’t be any in there.

  “Now that looks like a most excellent cup of tea, young man,” Paul said, examining the polystyrene cup. “I don’t suppose we could get one as well, could we?” Mr Jackson looked at Paul with his trademark hard stare, and I was sure the answer would be no when I saw his face soften. Glancing over at Laura, I could see she was beaming at the prison officer. Dimples and all. Mr Jackson shuffled back and flicked the kettle back on. Paul and Laura sat on their chairs, both leaning in toward me. As I did the same, I caught my stitches on my trousers and winced. “Are you okay?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah, I got stabbed last night.”

  “What?” Laura’s loud exclamation caused Mr Jackson to look across at us. She repeated the word, quieter but just as insistent. “What?”

  “Well, more slashed than stabbed. With a razor, the nurse thought.” I explained. “But I got stitched up at the hospital wing, so it wasn’t too bad.” Laura put her hand to her chest.

  “My God,” she said. “That’s awful. Where?”

  “In the queue for supper.”

  “No, where did you get stabbed?”

  I paused before replying. “Across the backside,” I said. Paul started smiling, and then laughing. Laura shot him a fierce look.

  “Paul, what’s bloody funny about that?” she barked. Paul’s laughter died away, and he managed to look apologetic. “What’s going on, Gareth?” She stared at me with her arms wrapped around her chest, unblinking.

  “Nothing, it’s just life inside.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, what can I say?”

  “First you get battered and end up with black eyes and a broken nose.” I remained silent. Technically, my nose hadn’t been broken, but Laura didn’t look in the mood to argue. “Then, you end up being stabbed. What’s going to happen next?”

  Laura was right to ask that. It was a question I’d asked myself several times. What was going to happen next?

  41

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Paul said to the jury. His voice was bright, enthusiastic. “I do hope that you all had a good lunch. Now, no doubt you’ll be pleased to hear I am approaching the final part of my defence.” Most of the members of the jury smiled as he said this. “I would like to call Dr Klein back to the witness stand.” The now familiar figure of Dr Klein made her way to the witness stand. I looked up at the public gallery as she settled herself into her seat, and I could see Andy and Jacob sitting next to each other, Tommy and David to their left, but I couldn’t see Big Joe or Robert’s parents. I scanned across the faces of the other people in the public gallery, wondering who they were, when I saw a familiar face. Mr McLoughlin, the prison guard. As I caught his eye, he half raised a hand. Laura had instructed me several times not to engage with anyone in the public gallery, but I risked a nod to acknowledge his greeting, anyway.

  “Now, Dr Klein, you are still under oath, so we won’t need to swear you in again,” Paul said for the benefit of the jury.

  “Thank you,” Dr Klein replied, her trademark smile still present. Just as when she had first sat down in the courtroom, I expected her to pull out some knitting needles.

  “I want to talk this afternoon about the mechanics of Mr Wainwright’s injuries,” Paul said. “Now I know that you weren’t present at the post-mortem, but can you confirm that you are up to speed on this issue?”

  “Absolutely. The pathologist’s notes and slides were extremely well done. I was able to get all the information that I needed from them.”

  “Could you describe Mr Wainwright’s injuries, in general terms?” Dr Klein checked her notes before replying to Paul’s question.

  “Yes, of course. According to the post-mortem report, there were two areas of injury to Mr Wainwright. The most obvious of these areas was obviously to Mr Wainwright’s head, but the pathologist also noted some old bruising to his ribcage.”

  “Old bruising?” Paul asked. “How old exactly?”

  “Yes, now it’s always difficult to be too accurate with the time of partially healed bruises, but as a rough estimate the pathologist suggested two to three weeks.”

  “Which would mean that those injuries were inflicted at some point in the weeks before he was killed?”

  “Yes, that would be correct. But it’s not possible to be more specific than that.” Robert’s old injuries had been brought up in the original trial, but Miss Revell had argued that it was impossible to ascertain how Robert had sustained them. I looked across at her, wondering if she would raise the same objection again, but she remained silent.

  “Did Mr Wainwright have any other injuries at all, other than the bruising to his chest and the head injuries that we are going to explore in a moment?”

  “No, he didn’t,” Dr Klein replied.

  “Did he have any defensive injuries to his hands?”

  “No, it was just the bruising to his chest and the head injuries.”

  “Thank you, Dr Klein,” Paul said. “But before we get to those particular parts of the jigsaw puzzle, could I ask you first to tell the jury a little bit about what happens when somebody is hit around the head with a blunt object? Such as a baseball bat?”

  Dr Klein turned to face the jury, smoothing out a wrinkle on her tweed skirt with the palms of her hands.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I will try my best to explain this in straightforward language. You see, the head can be thought of in the same way as an egg. If you consider an egg, it has a hard outer layer or shell. The head has a skull. Inside the egg is the important part, the yolk. Or the brain. Finally, surrounding the yolk is a protective fluid, or egg white, which is very similar to the liquid the brain floats in. It’s called cerebrospinal fluid.” Dr Klein paused and looked at each of the jurors in turn. I figured that she was making sure they were all keeping up. From where I was sitting it looked as if they were. “Now imagine that you tap the side of an egg. Quite hard, but not hard enough to break the shell. The yolk is protected by the egg white, and while it may wobble around inside the shell, there is enough fluid to protect it from too much damage. If you hit the side of a human head with a blunt object such as a baseball bat, it has exactly the same effect.” I saw several of the jurors nodding at Dr Klein’s explanation. “The brain is pro
tected to an extent by the cerebral spinal fluid it floats in, as the yolk is by the egg white.

  The effects of this wobbling, for want of a better word, will vary according to several factors. The force of the blow is probably the most important factor, but others are the direction of the impact and where the impact hits. For example, a blow to the side of the head can cause various internal injuries without the skull itself being broken.” Dr Klein paused, again surveying the jurors. Although a few of them were frowning, they all seemed to be following along. I half expected one of them to put their hand up at some point as if they didn’t understand, like children with a teacher.

  “Because the brain is mostly fluid, any force travels through and around the brain tissue, often in small swirling currents or eddies. When the skull remains intact, this force is reflected within the cranium as it has nowhere else to go. This bounces around inside the skull which can set in motion a sequence of events inside the brain tissue. Perhaps the most dramatic of these events is immediate unconsciousness.”

  “So, it is quite possible to hit somebody with a baseball bat, without breaking the skull, and for them to be rendered unconscious immediately?” Paul asked.

  “Yes, indeed,” Dr Klein replied. I thought back to the night I attacked Robert. That was exactly what had happened. He had gone down like a sack of potatoes when I’d hit him.

  “If an individual is struck as described, and is lying unconscious, what then is happening inside their brain?” Paul asked.

  “Well, a lot of that depends on the factors I have previously mentioned, I would expect that there might be a degree of bleeding within the brain. This might be quite obvious bleeding, such as a subdural haematoma or a bleed in between the layers of tissue which surround the brain. Or it could be microscopic in nature.”

  Miss Revell got to her feet as Dr Klein finished speaking.