Scott carried on with his summary. “We are only formally charging for the murder of her second child, George. However, the conditions in which both children died were remarkably similar: they were of a similar age, each death happened around 8pm, each time the husband was absent and she was on her own without any nanny or au pair present, each time suspicious symptoms were discovered by the pathologist.”
“That is the case the Crown will present to you in the coming days,” said Scott, winding up. “Here is a copy of the indictment that accuses Mrs Sarah Richardson of one count of murder of her son George Richardson.” Scott handed copies to one of the ushers, who then handed it out to all of us in the jury.
Eugene Dawkins, the barrister for the defence, got to his feet. He did not have the frock coat and waistcoat of the prosecuting barrister, just a dark grey suit. And the gown he wore over it was obviously just cloth and not silk. But then, I thought to myself, he’s not a QC, is he? But he did have the same winged collar with bands, and the horsehair wig, that looked like it had 1950s curlers in it. He did not hook his thumbs behind his robe lapels.
“Ladies and gentlemen. The defence will demonstrate to you that in no way is Mrs Richardson a killer. She is a loving mother whom tragedy has struck twice in a row; she has lost both her sons to a well-known but little understood syndrome called S.I.D.S., cot death.
“For George Richardson’s death, the coroner was formal – death by natural causes, based on the pathologist’s report. Yes, the pathologist’s report also mentions certain marks around the baby’s mouth. The prosecution maintains, erroneously, that this was deliberate smothering. We will show that this is due quite simply to the mother’s valiant attempt at artificial resuscitation. For twenty minutes. To no avail. She now knew the baby was dead, so she phoned her husband to share the tragic news. That is not suspicious, that is just normal.
“The prosecution offers diverse and totally invented motives, and then they say it was Mrs Richardson’s own statements that confirm them. These statements are quoted out of all context, tiny bits of a conversation plucked from several hours of interviews with the police, in the total absence of any lawyer. Mrs Richardson willingly answered all their questions, not believing that this nightmare of an accusation could possibly be for real. We will provide all the witnesses necessary to prove those accusations false.
“Finally, the prosecution will bring out an ‘expert’ to ‘prove’ that a double cot death is a very rare event.” For this last phrase you could hear his voice dripping with well-rehearsed disdain and scepticism. “But since when are you guilty of murder simply because you have had a double dose of bad luck? On the contrary, if a cot death can strike once, then there is every risk that it can strike again.
“Many people never accepted that it was an accidental death for Diana Princess of Wales. Why? Because, such a beautiful and much-loved princess cannot die in a banal car accident; it has to be assassination! In my cross-examinations I will show you this is what has happened here, how a fantasy murder has replaced the banal reality of tragedy. If you are struck by lightning it is bad luck; who says you can’t be struck by lightning twice? As unlikely as it seems, it has happened, several times. I will show you how it’s just very bad luck. Others, in this courtroom, will suggest that it’s so unlikely it has to be deliberate. We are warned not to fall into the trap of fake news and conspiracy theories. I ask you, the jury, to do the same here in this courtroom. Thank you.” The defence sat down.
“Thank you, Mr Dawkins,” said the judge. “However, such qualitative ideas would have been much better placed in your closing remarks. I asked simply for your opening statement on how you outline your defence. But let’s move on. Mr Scott, please call the first witness for the prosecution.”
Chapter Three
A youngish man in spectacles and a prematurely receding hairline was ushered into court and shown the witness stand. The usher gave him a piece of paper and asked him to read it out. “I swear by almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
Mr Peter Scott, QC, stood up for the prosecution. “Please state your name and profession.”
“I am Dr Rodney Harris. I am a pathologist at Lambeth Hospital.”
“Did you do the autopsy on George Richardson, baby son of Daniel and Sarah Richardson, who died on the 14th of April of this year?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you find any signs of illness or any other internal disorders?”
“No, I did not.”
“Could you ascertain the cause of death?”
“No, not really.”
“Did you find any indications that could lead you to think that this might be a suspicious death?”
“Yes. There were marks around the mouth where the skin colouring was different.”
“Bruising?”
“Yes, sort of.”
“What is bruising, Dr Harris?”
“It’s when blood capillaries are broken by external pressure, so blood seeps out into the adjacent skin tissue.”
“Is it possible to cause bruising in a body after death?”
“No. If blood is not being pumped by the heart, it cannot escape from the blood vessels.”
“So, bruising can only happen to a body that is still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then you could not create bruising by trying to resuscitate a dead baby’s body?”
“No.”
“Could such bruises have been caused by a pillow or other object being used to suffocate the baby?”
The defence stood up. “My Lord, my learned friend is leading the witness.”
“I agree,” said the judge. “Mr Scott, please rephrase your question.”
“Could such bruises have been caused by a pillow or other object being applied under pressure to the baby’s mouth?” asked Scott.
“Yes,” replied Harris.
“Is this why you signal in your report, on page 12, the possibility of a suspicious death?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Thank you. That’s all from me.” Scott sat down.
The lead defence barrister got to his feet for the cross examination. “Dr Harris, how many autopsies have you performed on babies in your career?” asked Dawkins.
“Two or three.”
“Two, or three, which is it?”
“Three with George Richardson,” replied Harris.
“How many were considered as cases of S.I.D.S., or cot deaths?”
“Not for the first two. They were both clear cases of illness with infection as cause of death. For George Richardson, it is considered as one of the possible causes.”
“So, you confirm that the death may be due to S.I.D.S.?”
“Yes. But I also flagged the possibility of other causes such as suffocation.”
“From what you have just told us, you have never done an autopsy on any other baby that had died of suffocation?”
“No.”
“Have you done an autopsy on any person that has died of suffocation?”
“No.”
“How old are you Dr Harris?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“How many autopsies have you done in total as a qualified pathologist?”
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen?”
“Yes, I only qualified last year.”
“In all transparency, how many autopsies does a pathologist have to do before he is considered an expert?”
“More than a hundred, I suppose.”
“We all have to begin somewhere, there’s nothing wrong with that,” said Dawkins kindly. “By your own admission you are nowhere near being an expert yet. Did you ask another more experienced pathologist for a second opinion?”
“No,” replied Harris.
&nb
sp; “Why not?”
“We have very few resources. We can’t have two pathologists doing every autopsy.”
“But here we are talking about possible murder; and yet you, an inexperienced pathologist, did not look for a second opinion? I ask again, why not?” Now Dawkins was a little less kindly.
“I repeat, lack of resources,” insisted Harris.
“May I suggest another reason?” countered Dawkins. “You considered this to be a simple cot death, and only mentioned the marks around the mouth to cover your backside?”
Peter Scott, QC, was on his feet. “My Lord, the question asked by my learned friend goes to the witness’ character, which is impermissible.”
“Mr Dawkins,” said the judge. “Nice try, but please keep within the rules. Please rephrase your question.”
I was amazed at the courtesy of all parties. Maybe I had seen too many American court dramas, where the attorneys leap to their feet with ‘Objection, your honour’, and the judge would growl ‘sustained’ or ‘overruled’! Well, I thought, this is what makes us British, with our politeness and everything. Or is it just the wigs that make them play a role like in some old-fashioned film? “My learned friend… it goes to the witness’ character…” And the judge replies, just as politely, “Nice try, but please keep within the rules…” I went to some minor public school, but I didn’t learn this etiquette. So, I suppose the accent should be on the ‘minor’ and not on the ‘public’ (as in ‘private’ – go work that one out!). Stop your mind wandering, I scolded myself, and concentrate on what the lawyers, sorry barristers, are saying!
Suitably admonished, but doubtless happy to have got his point over to the jury, Dawkins tried again. “Dr Harris. Did you not look for a second opinion because in your mind, and despite the presence of those marks, you really did consider this to be a natural death?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“In your fourteen other autopsies, did you ever conclude that there was a suspicious death?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then am I right to conclude that you do not yet have much forensic experience in analysing suspicious marks?”
Scott was on his feet again. “My Lord, this is conjecture.”
“Let him answer the question,” said the judge.
“I suppose not,” replied Harris.
“Are you sure you can tell the difference between a mark caused by bruising before death, with a mark caused by blood draining to other parts of the body in different patterns after death?” continued Dawkins.
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“If the mother applied pressure with her lips onto a small body that had already died, and probably in her anxiety her lips were wrapped firmly around her teeth and gums, is it not possible that this pressure might cause the blood to drain differently from those areas concerned, leaving marks visible during the autopsy?”
“Yes. I imagine it is possible.”
“So those marks could be created by the mother’s resuscitation attempts after the baby is dead?”
“Yes, possibly,” conceded the pathologist.
“No further questions, my Lord.” Dawkins sat down.
“Do you wish to re-examine, Mr Scott?” asked the judge.
There was a rapid whispered discussion between the lead and junior prosecution counsel. Then Scott got to his feet. “Just one question, my Lord. Dr Harris, the mother claims in her police statement to have tried, alternatively with her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, to have provided cardiac massage by pumping down on the rib cage with her hands. Did you see similar marks on the ribcage as to those you found around the mouth?”
“No, not that I remember.”
“Thank you. That is all,” said Scott, sitting down.
“If there are no further questions, you may leave, Dr Harris,” said the judge. “Please call the next witness for the prosecution.”
Chapter Four
He was in his late forties, in a rather shiny dark suit that looked to have come off the peg in Marks & Spencer, but some time ago. When he was sworn in, he spoke with an authoritative, but unmistakably ‘estuary’, voice. It was obvious he had done this many times before. The prosecution asked him to state his name and profession, but the whole court had already guessed what he did for a living.
After these preliminaries, Scott got straight to the point. “Detective Sergeant Tooley, how did you get involved in this investigation?”
“I got a phone call from someone in the local coroner’s office. He said I should look into two consecutive cases of infant deaths within the same family – the Richardsons.”
“Why was this person suspicious?”
“Two reasons,” he explained. “The first was, of course, the pathologist’s report that noted the possibility of a suspicious death due to the marks around the mouth of baby George, the second child to die. This led him to do some research into double cot deaths, where he found his second reason, the ‘cot-death law’ – ‘one cot death is a tragedy, two deaths are a crime, unless proved otherwise’. He said I should contact Professor Goodwin of the University of East Anglia, who was an expert in this field.”
“So, what did you do then?” asked Scott.
“I dug out the original details for the death of the first child, Andrew,” answered Tooley. “The autopsy report concluded no known cause of death, so it was put down as S.I.D.S., cot death, which led the coroner to conclude an accidental death. However, the autopsy also mentioned some retinal haemorrhages that could have been created by the baby being violently shaken. This got me even more suspicious.
“Then, since my contact had mentioned Professor Goodwin, I looked him up on the internet,” Tooley continued. “He’s a professor of paediatrics at the University of East Anglia. I saw that he was indeed one of the clear experts in the domain of infant deaths. I contacted him, briefed him on the situation, and he expressed a marked interest in the case.
“He told me that the probability of two sequential cot deaths in the same family was next to zero; we went through the arithmetic together, and it became clear to me that this could only mean foul play. What’s more, the pathologist’s reports of a shaken baby for the first child, followed by a suggestion of smothering for the second, were both clinchers. Professor Goodwin was quite clear; I should go and investigate who had been present at the time of the baby’s death and arrest them for murder.
“The pathologist’s report showed 8pm as the probable time of death. The statements from the inquest gave 7pm as the time of the mother’s arrival home, and the au pair left to go out shortly after that. I checked Mr Richardson’s alibi; he was indeed with other persons at that time in the Bistro Mirey restaurant in West Kensington.” (He pronounced it ‘By-strow’.) “Furthermore, the accused’s statements confirm all of this.”
“So,” said Scott, “the only person in the Richardson’s flat at the time of death was Sarah Richardson?”
“Yes.”
“Did you discover any other important elements in your investigation?”
“Yes,” continued Tooley. “I found the sequence of calls made by Mrs Richardson to be very suspicious. Both according to her phone records and according to her own statement, she called her husband before calling for an ambulance.
“In her statement, she clearly says she tried to resuscitate the baby. If that was the case, she would also have called for an ambulance. She could have called 999 with one hand, while doing cardiac massage with the other, put it on loudspeaker, and continue with her efforts while calling. No, nothing like that. She just calls her husband to say the baby’s dead. And only then, once he has asked whether she has called an ambulance, does she ring off and call for one.
“So, once I had got all my evidence tied up, I discussed with my superior officers, and got the warrant to arrest Mrs Richardson for murder.”
“
I understand you then interviewed Mrs Richardson at some length?” asked Scott.
“Yes, I did,” said Tooley.
“And did she tell you anything more of interest?”
Looking at these two experienced players – the prosecution barrister and the police detective – batting backwards and forwards, it was obvious that they had rehearsed together.
“Yes,” said Tooley. “She clearly indicated that she didn’t want those children, or at least not so soon, because they were a severe handicap on her career.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, she complained how both her babies had kept her awake at night, by crying consistently, refusing to feed, vomiting, and so on. She said it made her incredibly tired and irritated. She said that at times she was at the end of her tether.”
“Thank you, DS Tooley. That’s very clear. I have no further questions.” Scott sat down.
Later I gleaned what was going through Sarah Richardson’s mind at this time:
‘They are totally twisting my words out of context. Yes, those boys came earlier than expected, particularly the second one - we never expected I would get pregnant again so fast. Yes, we had to reorganise my job around them. But between nannies and au pair girls, I was never off for more than a few weeks. My company fully accepted this! I loved those baby boys! They fully became my life. I did and would have done anything for them. I would sacrifice anything to get them back. I told the police all that. When I talked to them, I imagined that it was all a big mistake, that by telling them everything about us they would soon realise that.
‘Of course, I got tired and irritable, what mother doesn’t with a new-born baby? I told them that. But I also told them I have never loved another being so much; those babies came from me; they were part of me! Why do they invent this story where I am the villain?
‘To imagine that I could hurt my babies! What inhumanity makes them think that? Even when I told them everything about me, answered every one of their questions, they twist it around to make it sound the opposite of what I said, or the opposite of anything I could possibly do to hurt my loved ones.
The Mathematical Murder of Innocence Page 3