‘Yes, that’s what happened,’ Georgina confirmed.
‘You mention that “two other staff members” called you over; would one of those staff members happen to be this blond male – James?’
‘Yes.’
‘So the police saw James?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the police showed James the two photographs, one of which was the photograph of the blond male who had been identified as the friend of the attacker?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did the police ask James if he recognised the blond male in the photograph?’
‘Well … yeah. The police asked all of us.’
‘And the police had no reason to arrest James? They weren’t showing James a picture of himself were they? That would be absurd! He wasn’t the blond male that the victim’s friends had identified, was he!?’
‘No, the picture was of a Scottish man called Gordon,’ she said. ‘He stayed in the hotel.’
‘And Gordon and James are different people?’
‘Of course,’ she smiled.
‘And do they look alike?’
‘Erm … I’d need to see a picture of Gordon again but I’d say no. Not really.’
‘So, would you say that a picture of the defendant and his holiday rep is totally irrelevant to this case?’
‘Erm … I guess so.’
‘So this blond male … Gordon … was he friends with the defendant?’ asked George.
‘I never saw Gordon socialising with the Cypriot boys. I couldn’t be 100 per cent sure because I wasn’t there the whole time … but in this job you do get to know who becomes friends! I’m 99 per cent sure that they hadn’t even spoken.’
Georgina later testified that she was present in the police station when the police interrogated Chris and Charlie. Before being forced to leave she could see Charlie through a door that was ajar and mouthed, ‘Are you OK?’ Charlie shook his head and mouthed, ‘No.’ Georgina confirmed that Chris and Charlie instantly made a complaint about the Greek investigating officers’ violent behaviour, and that they had forced them to sign documents that they didn’t understand. She also told the court that Charlie’s face was noticeably swollen and bruised as a result of the beating.
40
* * *
THUMBS UP, THUMBS DOWN!
* * *
On 16 June I gave my testimony to the court. The night before, I met George Pyromallis in a café with his assistant Vanessa. ‘Don’t shout, don’t get too emotional, just stay calm and tell them the truth. Even if you stand there and say, “it wasn’t me”, it’s fine. Your job is very easy!’
I’d read the Bible, and there was a Psalm that I said I’d wanted to tell the court in my testimony because it was so relevant to the case.
‘Don’t quote the Bible, Andrew, they think people who quote the Bible are crazy!’ he said.
My heart thumped before I stood to testify, but I was as ready as I could ever be. I stood at the wooden lectern and looked up at the public prosecutor, four jurors and three judges. They looked down at me with curious eyes – who could have known what was going through their minds? They had the power to change the course of the rest of my life. I was nervous, but reminded myself how simple my job was: just tell the truth. It was a far easier testimony to make than that of some of the prosecution witnesses.
I’d been waiting three years for this moment. I put my hand on the Bible and took the oath:
‘I had no involvement in the tragic death of Jonathan Hiles, I wasn’t there and the accusations are false. It’s taken three years of suffering to clear my name; one of those years was in a foreign prison.’
After everything that I’d gone through, I became overwhelmed with frustration and anger. ‘I was twenty years old when I was extradited here!’ I cried.
Twenty! You can’t imagine how difficult it is being the youngest person in a foreign maximum-security prison! I have stories that you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes I wish that I could erase them from my memory. I was locked up for someone else’s crime and this whole case has been based on a lie! … I’ve sat here and witnessed this entire trial – and it has become some sort of sick war. It’s clear that the friends of the victim were not describing the attacker, but were describing how I looked in the photograph of me at the time. I know this is the case … Jonathan Hiles’s friends know this is the case … Mr Hiles knows this is the case – quite frankly, I think that everyone who’s sitting in this room knows that this is the case!
Then I said exactly what George Pyromallis had told me not to.
Psalm 64:2! They sharpen their tongues like swords and aim their words like deadly arrows! They shoot from ambush at the innocent man, they shoot at him suddenly without fear! … But God will shoot them with their arrows! Suddenly they will be struck down. He will turn their own tongues against them and bring them to ruin!
I couldn’t help myself.
I told the court that I’d found it extremely difficult being accused of urinating in a public place, indoors.
This is animalistic behaviour and I’m incapable of doing such a thing … I swear on the lives of everyone who I love, I did not commit this crime! I’ve never been in a fight before, it isn’t in my character – I’ve never even hit anyone! Anyone who knows me would tell you the same thing.
I buried my face in my hands and felt tears.
If I’m found guilty of this crime, my life is over; my girlfriend will have to move on with her life, my friends will settle down and have careers and families. I would be branded a murderer and have to go to prison for something that someone else did! I sympathise with the Hiles family because they lost their son – it is absolutely tragic – but I can’t take responsibility for something that I know I didn’t cause. Whatever the outcome of this trial is, I still didn’t kill Jonathan Hiles … and now my life is in your hands.
After reiterating where my friends and I were on the night of the attack, I sat down. I was too emotional and angry, but it was over – I couldn’t go back and change it. Hopefully they didn’t think I was crazy because of the Psalm that I’d attempted to recite.
Was the truth obvious or did they doubt me? I couldn’t bear it any more – I needed to know their verdict.
It was time for the public prosecutor to make his recommendation. He was more like a judge and sat to the left of the counsel panel. He’d asked a few questions throughout the trial, but hadn’t cross-examined witnesses like the Hiles family’s lawyer had. The public prosecutor stood up and told the court that he recommended my acquittal.
It was such a relief – a first real sign of hope that I’d been given by the court. It didn’t mean that I was found innocent, or mean that I would definitely be acquitted. It meant that the court acknowledged that the case against me was extremely weak. I tried not to keep my hopes up, but hearing the recommendation was still an incredible feeling.
The trial was postponed until the next day, 17 June, and I knew that it was going to be a big one. It had been a long journey and I’d come so far – but it wasn’t quite over yet.
It was the last day in court. I’d never felt such nausea before – my stomach wouldn’t stop churning and my eyes were puffy. We heard the closing argument of the prosecuting lawyer – of course, he suggested that I be found guilty. He lodged perjury suits against Chris Kyriacou, Charlie Klitou and me to counter the suits that we’d lodged against the victim’s friends. Suddenly everyone was suing each other! He suggested that my friends Chris Kyriacou and Charlie Klitou had voluntarily told the truth in the investigation, and that they were not beaten or violently intimidated by police officers in Zante.
‘Look, Andrew Symeou himself even said in his statement that Chris Kyriacou was his best friend! They have made up this entire story to protect him!’
The prosecuting lawyer reminded the court that the five friends of Jonathan Hiles had looked me in the eyes and identified me as the killer with complete certainty. For this, the prosecuting lawyer suggeste
d that the jury must find me guilty. He turned his attention to the panel.
You’ve all seen the programmes on television, the British come over here and involve themselves in binge drinking and violent behaviour. Andrew came on holiday to get drunk and start trouble – now it’s resulted in the death of a young man. If you have any doubt of his innocence, you must find him guilty!
(This isn’t right – jurors are expected to do the opposite by law. If there is any reasonable doubt, they must acquit.)
My lawyer George Pyromallis walked towards the judges. He held the wad of police statements in his hand and waved them in the air.
There’s over one hundred pages of testimony here. It outlines exactly what happened on the night that Jonathan Hiles was attacked. No facial hair was mentioned in the perpetrator’s description. In over one hundred pages of witness statements … not one hair! Yet they stood here and added the most obvious facial feature to match the defendant’s appearance?
George reminded the court of other witness testimonies, which further suggested that no facial hair was ever mentioned. A Rescue nightclub security guard’s testimony was revisited – he’d confirmed that on the night in question there was no mention of facial hair when looking for the perpetrator. The investigating police officer, Angelos Polizos, confirmed that the victim’s friends were looking for a clean-shaven male in the preliminary investigation. James Gibson’s testimony (the photographer) was mentioned again; he was present when the victim’s friends were looking through photographs in the police station. He’d said that there was ‘definitely some doubt’ when they recognised an individual, and that they had started to convince each other.
George continued:
In Mark O’Gorman’s statement made to Welsh police, he states ‘I can’t be 100 per cent sure’ of the attacker’s identity. Yet he has come here, four years later, and is suddenly completely certain? He must be Superman! He must be the only person in the world whose memory improves with time!
George began to raise his voice.
Not only is there not one piece of credible evidence against the defendant, but there is evidence that Andrew Symeou has no connection with the crime at all! He is a random person from a photograph, which was not even taken on the same night as the incident! Two males were involved in this incident, and only one of them has been mentioned throughout this trial – Jonathan Hiles himself!
I was an innocent man and George had done everything that he could to prove it. I was so proud to have him as my lawyer.
There was an hour’s recess for the counsel panel to deliberate on the verdict. We walked down the road to a fast food restaurant for lunch, but I doubt anyone could eat. It was strange, but I was suddenly struck by the same feeling I’d had three years earlier when I was arrested in London. Civilians around me were living their everyday lives – they were on their lunch breaks from work, or were shopping for their families. I felt so insignificant; it was one of the biggest days of my life and the world was still spinning. All I wanted was for it to be a completely normal day again.
I couldn’t even sit down, let alone have lunch. My parents, my gran and Sophie all had the same drained, pale faces. I walked around anxiously, but was hiding my nerves with smiles and laughs. ‘Why do you all look so miserable, we’re going home soon! We should be celebrating now!’ My friends Aron Rouse and Jason Demetriou were also there; they probably thought that I’d finally snapped and lost the plot. The truth was that I was the most terrified I’d ever been in my life – if I sat down and let one negative thought pass through my mind I would’ve broken down. I’d never felt that level of suspense before; it was almost too much to bear.
It felt like the longest hour that had ever passed in my life. When we walked back to the courthouse, I managed to have a word with Theo (the translator) in the hallway. ‘I won’t understand the verdict; it will all be too quick. Please, could you just give me a thumbs up or thumbs down as soon as you know?’
‘Of course, Andrew.’ He’d translated the entire trial – and from the soft tone of his voice, I could tell that he was expecting positive news.
I sat on the defendant’s bench for the last time and waited for the judges and jurors to enter. They were taking far too long – did it mean that they were really thinking about it? Did it mean that they were considering finding me guilty? If they were to find me innocent, surely it would be a quick and easy decision – why was it taking so long? I sank into the seat – I couldn’t move. I stared at the crooked portrait of Jesus in front of me – it was blurry; my eyes couldn’t even focus. I was empty. Waiting. Every minute that passed felt like an hour of dangling in mid-air. I couldn’t bear it for much longer. I was numb. My head felt heavy. I needed it to end, but I couldn’t distract myself from the mental image of Theo turning his thumb to the floor. I couldn’t bear the thought of being sentenced to my doom; twenty years in prison and branded a murderer. It had to be a thumbs up – it just had to be.
Every now and then the side door would open – the door where the judges and jurors would enter the courtroom. My heart would start to palpitate – but it was only the court clerk.
After a two-and-a-half-hour recess, the door opened and the judges and jurors walked into the courtroom.
The president judge began to speak. I don’t know what she said. All I could hear was a ringing in my ears – my head felt like it was about to burst. The court clerk clapped his hands together with a huge grin on his face. The translator made eye contact; I looked down at his hand and started to wonder as he clenched his fingers into his palm.
He shot his thumb up to the sky.
It was a thumbs up.
After a three-year battle for truth and justice, I’d been found innocent. As soon as I saw the hand gesture, my head collapsed forward. My face was lost in my palms – I filled them with tears. It was over. I could hear my family sobbing behind me. It’d been a long road; a road that none of us could ever have imagined.
‘Do you have any questions?’ the president judge asked.
‘No,’ I answered – my eyes began to stream.
The judges and jurors walked out – just like that, it was finished. I stood up and turned to my family. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at them – our eyes flooded and we held each other in the tightest embrace possible, as though the world around us had stood still. It was a moment that I’ll never forget. After everything that we’d been through as a family – the extradition battle, prison visits, living in Athens and fighting for a court date – it was all over. Forever. I was found innocent. My dad held my face in his hands. ‘It’s over, Andrew. You’re going to go to university and get a good job. You have your entire life ahead of you now. Be proud, you did it son!’
41
* * *
THE AIRPORT CATERPILLAR
* * *
After a three-year battle to clear my name, the court had found me not guilty. According to the president judge’s summing up, it was due to the attacker having ‘never been described as sporting a beard’.
Moreover, the evidence shows that the nightclub had low levels of light, and only flashing, colourful disco lights that could have altered the visual appearance of a person’s face. This was made more difficult with the lateness of the hour, and degree of alcohol consumed by the victim’s friends before the incident, in addition to their young age. Together with the sworn testimonies of all defence witnesses – the identification of the defendant as the person who fatally attacked the deceased is clearly refuted.
These were all things that should have been revealed in a competent investigation.
I walked out of the courtroom into the hallway and the first person I called was Riya. I choked up, but managed to say the words, ‘I’ve just been found innocent.’ All I could hear on the other end of the telephone were wailing cries.
I felt as though I should have been happy – of course I was – but it wasn’t how I’d imagined it would feel. We’d been fighting for justice for
so long, and we finally had it! I thought that I’d be over the moon because a weight that’d been holding me down for three years was instantly lifted. What bothered me was that the weight should never have been holding me down in the first place. I’d spent almost a year in prison – where was the justice in that? No one could ever make up for it, or even begin to understand how difficult it was for me.
The not-guilty verdict was too little too late, and it left me feeling completely exhausted. All I remember wanting to do at the time was go back to the apartment and lie down.
According to the trial transcript, three jurors out of a judicial panel of seven had voted guilty. It made no difference to the verdict, but still pissed me off massively. After witnessing what was (in my opinion) a massive sweep under the carpet regarding the police’s flawed investigation, I didn’t believe that the ratio was true.
There was no way on earth any jurors voted guilty. I couldn’t let this frustration go, so a couple of years later I did some investigating. I managed to find one of the jurors on Facebook because all of their names were listed in the transcript. I sent a message, explaining what the transcript had said about the verdict. I then asked about the process of voting and whether the ratio was true.
Luckily the juror spoke some English, and I received a response within an hour:
I can tell you for sure is that we didn’t have any connection with the judges. We gathered as jurors and we make our decision which was a not-guilty verdict. It was a common decision. Really how did you come into the conclusion that the other three voted against you? Anyway, these are all that I remember and I can tell you for sure. I have no clue how the other procedures done. Andrew, what’s done is done. You cannot erase the past but you can go on with your future. Finally the truth came out. Keep that and try to forget all the hard and difficult times that you had and become strong. Bringing all these back to your mind it will not help you to overcome and go on with your life.
Extradited Page 29