Jeremy put his head in his shaking hands and then got up to walk around, thinking about what to do. He was wobbly on his feet and his face was flushed red. ‘Do you think we missed something in the papers?’ I said. I didn’t know what else to say and that cold fear was back.
‘What did you say to Julie?’ I asked. Jeremy said he had tried to reassure her that this was probably a business rival, but he felt that her voice gave away a feeling of mistrust and doubt. However, the one thing we were sure about was there was one person who would do such a thing, and that was Gerard.
Jeremy was pacing around, nervous and irritated, wondering what to do. I told him that he had Hopkins’s mobile number and that he should call him to tell him what had happened, and that he thought Gerard might be responsible for the call. Is that how their witness should be behaving? he should ask.
Jeremy called Hopkins and firstly apologised for calling him direct as he knew this was a breach of protocol, but he didn’t know what else to do. Jeremy filled him in on the details of Julie’s phone call and Hopkins became flustered and agitated. He made an attempt at an apology and said he would deal with it and get back to him. A little while later Hopkins called to say that the matter had been dealt with and that Jeremy should not be troubled any further.
For us, however, the matter was not closed. We could no longer relax on our break knowing that the conversation between Julie and this ‘Geoff Goldie’ was waiting to be heard back at the shop on our black box telephone recorder.
Although we had only just arrived in Spain, Jeremy’s next call was to book us on the first flight home, which was not until the next day. We tried to enjoy what was left of our break and went for dinner down by the sea front, but we were both lost in our own terrified thoughts. It was another twist of the knife in our continuing nightmare.
We finally arrived back at the shop on Sunday afternoon. We went quietly through the back door and left the shutters closed as we sat down with a cup of coffee, ready to listen to the voice recorder.
Jeremy looked at the menu showing calls in and out on 10 September and noted that there were two incoming calls from the same number. ‘Let’s try this one,’ he said. We sat and listened to the ringing tone, then heard Julie answer with the usual greeting: ‘UK Professional Video.’ There was no mistaking the next voice we heard. We both looked at each other and said in unison, ‘It’s Gerard,’ at which point we both laughed, although it was really no laughing matter. We listened intently to these two conversations.
The first conversation between the two of them began with a man, whom we were sure was Gerard, calling himself Geoff Goldie, pretending to be a potential customer and enquiring about professional camcorders. Julie was fielding the questions very well and holding her own and then suddenly ‘Geoff’ interrupted her.
‘Do you mind if I bring up another topic?’
Julie replied, ‘Yeah?’
‘Geoff’ continued: ‘That might freak you out but I thought I’d mention it. I’m gonna go for it because I think you’re honest and I do genuinely get the impression that you’re operating to instructions if you know what I mean.’
Julie replied, ‘Yeah, I am, yes.’
‘Is this true that actually, that it is a one-man operation and he’s not there because he’s in court as a paedophile?’ ‘Geoff’ asked.
After a sharp intake of breath we heard her say, ‘Sorry?’
‘I know that’s probably freaking you out but is that true or not?’
Julie managed to stutter, ‘Who told you this, the guy at Video Action?’
‘No, I’ve actually heard that through another source.’
Julie, still reeling in shock and taking deep breaths, said, ‘I’m sorry, but you’ve just totally shocked me.’
Gerard, probably relishing the fact that he now knew he had Julie’s full attention, said, ‘I know, I wasn’t going to mention it because I thought it was too sensitive.’
Julie responded, ‘I’ve got a child myself and no, that just wouldn’t … he’s … no, it doesn’t work like that. And he’s not a one-man operation anyway … I don’t understand where you are getting your information from…’
As Julie trailed off ‘Geoff’ interjected, ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, I know it’s an extreme scenario but it didn’t sound like it was untrue.’
‘Geoff’ then reverted back to talking about camcorders and it appeared that Julie was keen to be rid of this caller and the conversation ended with him saying that he would get back to her.
A few minutes later the man called back.
He introduced himself again as Geoff Goldie and mentioned that he had just spoken to her. By this point we could hear that Julie sounded much colder towards him as he mumbled on about purchases he might make.
Then Gerard changed tack again and said, ‘I wanted you to know because I genuinely believe that you work there and you might not know … but we have actually checked with Welwyn Garden City, my colleague did errr … Welwyn Garden City police … and actually that story is true.’
Julie replied in a matter of fact tone, ‘Right, OK, thank you very much for letting me know.’
Gerard, still aching to spill the beans, continued, ‘I’m telling you this, it’s being dealt with by a DC Brian Hopkins at Welwyn Garden City Police Station and he is being investigated as a paedophile. And I’m telling you because it sounded like you genuinely didn’t know and the information was given to us by a company called Top Teks.’
Julie thanked him again for the information, to which he replied, ‘Take care, bye.’
After hearing these two voice recordings Jeremy shouted, ‘I’ll kill that fucking bastard!’
We made up CDs of the conversations as we thought these would be useful in the future. We hoped that after Jeremy’s phone call to Hopkins, Gerard would have been warned off for the time being, but we knew he would continue to be trouble.
Chapter 8
SECOND COURT APPEARANCE
Once again the shop had to be closed so that Jeremy could attend another court appearance. Unfortunately, I did not know enough about video equipment to stand in for Jeremy and he didn’t want me at the court anyway as it was too traumatic for him, let alone me to suffer with him. It was frustrating because it was not just another chance for Jeremy to simply plead his innocence whereupon the kindly judge allowed him to go home and get on with life. It was all in the hands of the system and I found it very frustrating to hear everyone talking about him, the case and what information would be required to progress Jeremy to trial. He, as well as I, was hoping that today would be the day his solicitor would discover some information that would make the whole case against him collapse – but this wasn’t the movies.
I went to work to try to conduct a normal life while Jeremy was back in court. By lunchtime he called me to say that the discussions between the parties had been about further information-gathering and, worse, what punishment he could expect. We had read that even with Category 1 images, which were considered the least offensive, there could still be a prison sentence of three to six months, although Hamilton assured us that Jeremy’s case would not warrant that. If found guilty, he would be placed on the sex offenders register for three years and would have to pay a fine. He said it in such a way that made Jeremy feel as if this alternative was an option that he should feel grateful for. With all the advice he had had about the police not having a case his confidence in the justice system was getting smaller by the minute and the thought of being put on the sex offenders register had him boiling with rage.
To distract him from the morning’s proceedings I said that he should go to the shop for the afternoon and get involved in his work. He asked me if I thought this was going to go to trial and I brightly told him not to be daft and that the truth would prevail, it just takes time and we were not familiar with court proceedings. He seemed encouraged as I put down the phone. My confidence was dissipating and a feeling of dread began to creep in, but I knew I must not let him se
e it.
During the afternoon I could only wonder what I would do if Jeremy went to prison. How would he cope? How would I cope financially with the shop and a business I could not run? That evening I visited my parents to give them an update, and as I relayed the possible consequences of a guilty verdict, that he could go to prison, I broke down and cried.
Chapter 9
OLD-STYLE COMMITTAL
In his past communications with the CPS, Hamilton had been frustrated by their claims to be awaiting important statements in relation to the incitement charge. They were busy working on this when, in fact, this charge had already been dropped back on 9 August at the first hearing. Hamilton was concerned that it was the CPS’s intention to restore the charge, trying to adjourn further hearings while they gained evidence. This was purely protracting events so he announced to Jeremy that it was his intention to apply for an old-style committal hearing where he would try to get the charges dropped through lack of evidence. It would only involve himself, the Hertfordshire Police’s solicitor and three magistrates. He felt it was worth a try.
On 19 November, Jeremy was to attend Hemel Hempstead Magistrates’ Court. He wanted me to be with him on this occasion and I was also keen to meet Hamilton as it was I who had found him on the internet.
It was a bitterly cold day and when we arrived at the court just after lunch for a 2 p.m. kick-off it was not particularly warm inside as there was some trouble with the heating. Still, we hoped we wouldn’t be there all afternoon.
We got ourselves a hot drink from a vending machine and looked for somewhere to sit among several loud-mouthed young men, most of whom were wearing hoodies, also waiting for a court appearance I guessed. While our nerves were on edge, they seemed unperturbed by the prospect of court. They seemed very familiar and at ease with what was probably just another routine court appearance. I felt alien to them and I suppose a cut above, but how could I feel like that when I could be seen as supporting an alleged paedophile? Their crimes, whether petty or violent, paled into insignificance against the abhorrent charges levelled at Jeremy.
Sitting close together for warmth and comfort amidst the noise and chaos, Jeremy suddenly pointed out Hamilton to me and waved to him. Seeing us, he came over and introduced himself to me. I stood as we shook hands and noticed that he was incredibly tall, very long limbed and he dwarfed us both. He told us that the solicitor representing the police wanted to adjourn the hearing as he had been unable to get hold of the disc of images from the officer concerned, who was on holiday. Hopkins, on holiday again, always missing when needed, how convenient, I thought. Hamilton excused himself from us as he wanted to find out if the solicitor acting for Hertfordshire Constabulary had managed to find his contact to hand over the disk.
I felt crestfallen. I wanted to get the hearing going if there was a chance that the case would be thrown out. It was just a game to these people, I thought, so what would it matter if they adjourned a hearing? To them it was insignificant, even usual, but what they failed to think about was that it would mean putting people’s lives on hold.
I could see Hamilton in the distance talking to the police’s solicitor, the nodding of heads and waving hands, but I couldn’t gain any meaning from their interaction. Jeremy was sitting hunched into his overcoat, staring at the floor, unblinking. My feet were absolutely frozen in the cold corridor and I looked at the clock which was approaching 2 p.m. I didn’t think we would be ready for a prompt start, if at all, as Hamilton started to edge his way back to us through the throng of people that were gathering to go into various court rooms.
As Hamilton sat down with us, he said that our hearing wouldn’t be cancelled after all, but he didn’t know when we would start that afternoon. It all depended on when this disc, which had been retrieved from a safe by another police officer, was delivered to the solicitor. The three of us sat in a row on uncomfortable chairs in infinite boredom. With Hamilton in the middle of Jeremy and me, I took this opportunity to ask about his experiences of these types of case, our prospects, his thoughts. He answered my questions in one tone, not looking at me, only ahead, and I felt he was just being polite with me rather than having a particular care for either of us. I realised then that where we had been seeking reassurance and support of an emotional nature as well as professional, it was not his business to be our therapist or friend. Jeremy was just another job to do and get paid for. I fell back into silence, amazed at the length of Hamilton’s legs stretched out in front of me. Maybe it was his aloof mannerism and the fact that I failed to gain any eye contact with him that made me feel uncomfortable.
Four o’clock came and went, the time punctuated by the occasional appearance of the police’s solicitor rushing up and down the corridor, frantically waiting for the crucial evidence. Surely, at this rate even the court would decide that time was running out and decide we would not be proceeding today.
As time approached 4.30 p.m. the court rooms and corridors began clearing out and we were still sitting there. At this point Hamilton decided to approach the police’s solicitor, who said that he had been told that the disk would not be forthcoming because of some technicality about showing images of that nature. I was annoyed that it had taken all this time to get that information. They had had weeks to sort this out and now here we were, at the eleventh hour, and suddenly this problem had been discovered.
The solicitor decided that he would proceed without the disc if we wanted and Hamilton said we would. We were the only ones left requiring the court services and at 5 p.m. we were finally ushered into a courtroom. As the doors opened, Jeremy whispered in my ear, ‘This is going to be a total waste of time.’
Hamilton got to his position and laid out his books and papers. The police solicitor sat on the other side. Jeremy had to sit at the front in the defendant’s chair close to Hamilton and sadly I had to sit on my own in the public gallery at the back. There was no one else in the room because of the late start, and I suppose we were lucky not to have any press presence, although I am not sure if this type of hearing would have been of any interest to them.
This room was not warm either but by now I was totally numb, even with my coat on. I couldn’t tell whether I was shivering from cold or nerves but it was tiring and I wished we were a long way from here. Jeremy sat with his head down, looking at his hands, and then up at me. He looked sad and dejected but I returned a comforting smile.
The court usher came in and said, ‘All rise,’ and in marched the three magistrates to their seats high up at the front of the court. One man flanked by two women. Any optimism I had left suddenly vanished.
The police solicitor brought to their attention the fact that he had hoped to adjourn the hearing as he had been waiting for further evidence of images on a disc, but would be happy to proceed. The magistrates said that they felt that they had sufficient information for them to go ahead. For me that was court-speak for ‘we’ve already made up our minds’ – and it wasn’t in our favour. Jeremy was right, I thought, this was going to be a waste of our time.
The police’s solicitor said that his evidence, which was transcriptions of three police interviews with Jeremy, would be read out to the court. Jeremy and I looked at each other and I knew he was thinking that we might have a chance after all. He and I knew the interviews did not reveal anything of substance, especially the interview in which Hamilton had advised Jeremy only to say ‘no comment’. Being so cold, however, all I could think was, how long would that take after Hamilton had his go? The magistrate prompted Hamilton to start.
Quietly and methodically, Hamilton went through the case, stopping at intervals to refer to books and quote various case law. In just under an hour, Hamilton concluded his arguments and was thanked by the head magistrate. Then we looked to the police’s solicitor, who started to read the transcripts. I was restless sitting on the wooden benches and I kept crossing and uncrossing my legs. I knew the transcripts almost by heart and was aware that this was going to take ages. The solicitor spo
ke in a bland voice, too, and I could only assume he was as bored as we were.
Finally, we were onto Jeremy’s third interview, which the police solicitor informed the magistrates would be a no comment interview. They nodded for him to continue and although he had not been able to receive the disk with images to show them, he carefully emphasised the description of the first image that Jeremy was questioned on. The solicitor quoted Hopkins, saying, ‘This is a picture of a young male child aged about ten. He’s naked, he’s sat with his knees pulled up in front of him and leaning back on his arms, that is a level one image. Jeremy, have you seen that before?’ I looked up at one of the female magistrates and I could see her nose wrinkle in disgust as she glanced at me, as if she had just opened a plastic container of egg sandwiches under her bench. The nail was in the coffin, Jeremy was right, this was a waste of time.
Despite all that had preceded this point – Hamilton’s arguments, quoted case law, risible evidence from the police – once the mention of a naked child was made, it seemed to me that all reason and objectivity went out of the window. If the three stooges had not made up their minds how they were going to vote at the beginning, I thought I knew how they were going to now.
The police solicitor finally sat down and the head magistrate said that he and his colleagues would adjourn for a short while and return with their decision. The court usher called for us to rise as they left but I could hardly stand because I could no longer feel my feet.
I went over to Hamilton and Jeremy. He was thanking his lawyer for his efforts and asking him how he thought it went. Hamilton said that we had done as much as we could and I did not let on about my observations of the magistrates to either of them.
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