“We will say; Mrs Champion was an instrument of Newman’s, she was not the creator of the details which were false. She simply attended the meeting, whether under duress or not.”
“I accept that.” The Judge said and made notes to that effect whilst the prosecution barrister took his chance to interrupt:
“Your Honour, it is appropriate to point out that we assert Mrs Champion applied for a mortgage in November 2005, met with the bank manager in Spain in December 2005, had her passport attested by a bank official in England on December 22nd 2005 and sent multiple faxes and e-mails of documents including confirmation of her income and copy bank accounts from her phone company address in England to the bank headquarters in Gibraltar. We do however accept statements from bank representatives who say that Mrs Champion was impossible to get hold of by phone and could only be contacted by e-mail and that communication was sent via Mr Terry Newman’s on line addresses.”
“It does seem that the entire operation was conducted by Mr Newman.” The Judge observed.
“It isn’t clear why Mrs Champion ended up in a meeting with a bank official but six months later the property was bought in her name and the money for that mortgage was handed over by the bank to her representative, Mr Newman.”
“In the witness statements I have read; the property and the bank accounts were entirely controlled by Mr Newman, were they not Mr Farnell?”
“Yes Your Honour, except that by the time this crime was brought to the attention of the authorities and the loaning bank, Mrs Champion was living in the property.” The CPS barrister looked smug as he enlightened the Judge who was completely unaware of the fact that Henrietta had ever taken up residence in the villa for any time or purpose. He continued: “Your Honour, if you have any anxiety about the propriety of making an in indication of a Goodyear, we would respectfully say ‘No’ to it.”
“Now would be a good time to break for lunch, Gentlemen.” The Judge wanted time to process what he had been told but the prosecution barrister stood up and said:
“Your Honour, the Crown accepts that it is not in the public interest to prosecute Mrs Champion for anything more than part of Count nineteen. We would accept her plea if it was signed and brought into Court after lunch?”
The Judge got up to leave and the numerous barristers were at leave to take a cooked luncheon in the private dining room. Before Kevin joined the retinue, he asked Henrietta to sign a quickly typed plea but Simon questioned the action:
“Surely you must tell the Judge she is ‘minded’ to make the plea. Not actually sign it until after he accepts her willingness to assist the Court. Am I wrong?”
“The prosecution will only accept her plea if it is in writing. We must act quickly whilst the Judge is willing to listen.”
After lunch Kevin gave the signed plea to Max Farnell who in turn gave a copy to the Judges Clerk and the Court resumed, this time with the admittance of the criminal defendants who were locked inside a very large glazed witness box at the rear of the court. Once they were seated, Henrietta was escorted in to Court thirteen by her solicitor through the double wide and double deep oak doors. Her senses were heightened as she stood on the thin red carpet and glanced around the oak panelled courtroom at the cognoscenti of robed barristers who were busy shuffling papers and chatting. In the row behind them sat the supporting solicitors from the various instructing legal firms who were squashed together even on such a long bench. Henrietta had been given permission to sit beside Sarah.
The Judge came into Court and Henrietta stood up, when instructed, but otherwise went into a panic induced trance as the proceedings progressed and became withdrawn and distant. She heard the Judge thank Kevin for the signed document but noticed that he appeared saddened:
“Mrs Champion, please.” He gestured for her to approach the stand and the Clerk read out a long and detailed charge which sounded completely different to the one discussed earlier and asked Henrietta to confirm her plea. She looked to Kevin, Sarah and Simon in turn for guidance. Simon shrugged and looked bemused but Sarah and Kevin made winding motions with their hands and mouthed ‘Guilty’. Reluctantly she did as she was told.
The Judge seemed physically deflated but raised his head to speak directly to Henrietta before she was allowed to return to her seat.
“Mrs Champion, your barrister has requested that any sentence I direct should be suspended. The fact that I am giving you bail now should not be taken by the Prosecution as an indication that I have justified that request but I have not closed the door on that argument either. A pre-sentence report must be prepared for you as the charge you have pleaded guilty to passes the custody threshold. You will be told where to attend. I look forward to seeing what your probation officer will have to say in due course.” He smiled benevolently, then rose to leave court.
“All rise.” The Clerk cried.
Sarah seemed pleased that the pending trial would not include Hetty and therefore she would not have to attend either. Simon was unsure about the wisdom of the signed plea and was still trying to process the ensuing legal scenario he had just witnessed. Kevin suggested a celebratory drink and coaxed Sarah to join them before she caught her train home. As they ordered wine, no-one noticed that Henrietta had not spoken since her plea in court. She was confused but could see that her team were in high spirits and evidently more enlightened than she was. She stared as a familiar man walked into the bar, observed the party and chose to leave. Then Hetty spoke:
“Max Farnell just came in, stared at me like he had seen a ghost and left.”
“You’re being paranoid Hetty, here drink up, you did well today.” Kevin chinked her glass with his own and proposed ‘justice’ as the toast before they returned home to await further communication and dates from the Court.
March 20th 2011.
The trial of the men at Southwark Crown Court had lasted eight weeks and now the Judge was ready to pass sentence. Henrietta was surprised by the staggering number of lawyers, police and press but was reassured by Simon who gave her a discreet thumbs-up. She spotted Terry’s pretty daughter sitting beside Coleen who grimaced at Henrietta and silently mouthed; ‘Bitch’. Sarah guided Henrietta through the noisy throng toward the glazed witness box at the rear of the court. She was terrified at the prospect of sitting inside the ‘dock’ with Terry, Aiden and the others but additional security guards had been sanctioned as all of the accused knew Henrietta had turned them in to the police and they blamed her for their life changing demise. She winced noticeably as she stepped inside the dock.
“All rise” called the clerk and the Judge entered via his private door to begin the task of sentencing. Max Farnell was an eloquent and verbose man at ease with the court and his elevated position. His robes and wig showed signs of being well worn yet spotlessly maintained and he looked forward to replacing them with silks. Henrietta decided he was either gay or married to a woman who delighted in the privilege of her husbands’ status and fawned all over him and his laundry. He was softly yet clearly spoken and held his lapels with both hands over an expanded and proud chest as he addressed the Judge. Henrietta thought he would have made a marvellous cleric, had he not been so dangerously handsome. She watched him out class all of the defence barristers with his calumny of a speech after which the Judge announced that the court would have to resume the following morning and the prisoners would be bound into custody for the night.
Hetty’s heart pounded until she heard the Judge say that Mrs Champion was an exception and could leave the court. This announcement infuriated the other defendants and their lawyers but none more than Max Farnell who looked as though he might combust with rage, but before he could object the Judge rose to his feet.
“All rise“. Said the Clerk and the Judge inclined his head slightly to those present and left as swiftly as he had come.
The court guards stood up and signalled for the snarling prisoners to leave by the side door as each of them turned towards Henrietta and glared at her with h
atred. The remaining guard unlocked the door to the courtroom for Henrietta and her jolly faced barrister bounced over, designer spectacles in hand.
“How are you Henrietta? I’m pleased the Judge allowed you the protection of the guards.” Kevin pointed towards the exit and asked Sarah to take Henrietta to find a quiet spot and wait for him. They did as he asked and were joined by Simon who jumped to Hetty’s side as she passed the public benches. Once in the wide corridor, Kevin breezed up to the threesome with his gown flowing behind him and smoothed his un-wigged head of bouffant silver hair and spoke assertively:
“Well that went as well as can be expected at this stage, we will get a chance to mitigate our position further tomorrow but it all looks very good. The Judge has got the measure of that bunch and has shown you kindness which is a marvellous indication of his thinking. Yes, it’s going well, very well!” He inclined his head toward her ear discreetly and in a soft voice whispered “Don’t worry, none of the nasty stuff will be brought out in court now.” He smiled at his achievement then turned to go for ‘words’ with the prosecution barrister.
Tower Bridge.
Henrietta and Simon were bemused by what had just happened and why all the conflicting barristers had so many ‘friendly chats’. They left the Court behind and walked towards the taxi rank on Tooley Street and slumped into the back seat of the black cab.
“Tower Bridge Hotel, please.” The taxi driver moved off.
“How appropriate!” she said sarcastically and gave Simon a black look.
“Sorry. I thought we would be celebrating by now.” He genuinely wanted to protect her, the way the Police should have protected her. He placed his large hand over hers which he found like a lost glove on the vinyl taxi seat. She smiled at him and felt temporarily safe as the taxi drove to the hotel.
They went to Hetty’s room first, dumped their luggage by the door and sat at the small round table beside the window with a perfect view towards the Tower of London whilst Simon opened a bottle of Chablis. Hetty was the first to speak;
“Do you think it’s an omen?” She inclined her head towards the window filling landmark.
“What?” Simon was desperate for a drink and engrossed in the act of filling wine glasses borrowed from the welcome tray.
“They imprisoned her and then chopped her head off, you know.”
“Oh darling girl, don’t be silly, that was the dark ages. You did what you thought was right. Now we have to hope for justice. Where would you like me to take you for dinner?”
“Can we eat here?” She asked.
“We can do whatever you want. There are two restaurants in the hotel…”
“No. I mean can we stay in here. I don’t feel able to leave!”
“Oh?” Simon was dismayed by her sudden reticence to brave London nightlife and sulked.
“Please can we have room service?” He was moved by her insecurities but rather than encourage her to be brave, he passed her the hotel Menu.
“Whatever you want, I will have the same.” As though she knew best what was right at this difficult time.
“A hot bath, then soup.” She said.
“Fine, two soups it is. Go and have your bath.”
“Will you stay there?” She asked with childlike vulnerability as she entered the bathroom.
“I won’t move I promise.” He topped up his glass and lit a cigarette whilst she filled the bath with bubbles for a soak. It wasn’t long until the steel tub had cooled and she climbed out, dried herself and wrapped up tight in a white hotel robe and re-entered the room. Simon was still sitting by the window which he had opened as much as the safety catch would allow at such altitude, in order to rest his smoking hand on the sill between long drags on his cigarette. She resumed her seat opposite him and sipped her wine as they looked out at the black sky and the bright lights until their soups arrived which they slurped sombrely.
Hetty moved from the draught of the open window and climbed into bed and almost immediately fell asleep propped up against the pillows, in her robe, exhausted and watched over by Simon. Time passed as he went over and over in his head all the facts that he knew about Hetty’s situation and legal position. He was respected and consulted by his business peers for his intelligence and had experience of legal injustice when manipulated at the highest Government levels, but he was not a qualified lawyer and had to trust her legal team. He poured glass after glass of wine and smoked a packet of Dunhill cigarettes until it was almost dawn and he turned his attention toward the bed in the dimly lit room and watched Henrietta who slept as though she hadn’t a care in the world, but he now had grave misgivings. He stubbed out his cigarette, took a deep breath, stretched his arms, rubbed his eyes and removed his tie, cufflinks and trousers and lay on the unruffled bed beside Henrietta and closed his eyes for a long moment. He could not get the face of Terry Newman out of his head. ‘What an ugly bug-eyed git.’ He could not understand what Hetty had seen in him but felt almost overcome with the desire to hug and kiss her.
She awoke early and saw Simon laid out on the bed beside her wearing his shirt, cotton boxer shorts and long black socks, his feet and hands crossed over like a body laid out at a wake and as peaceful. She smiled at his kindness but wondered how this situation could be explained to his wife. She tiptoed to the bathroom to get ready and when she returned to the room Simon abruptly opened his eyes and tried to focus on the large face of his gold Yacht Master watch.
“It’s almost eight o’clock Simon. Are you ready for some breakfast?” He was suddenly self-conscious of his dishevelled half-dressed appearance as he swung his feet off the bed and scuttled to the bathroom. When he finally reappeared he was the formidable ‘suit’ that she looked up to and thanked God for his support. She was relieved that Oscar was away for a few days, as she did not want him to worry and had calculated that by the time she returned from Court and unpacked, she would have very little time before Oscar would be home. As they left the hotel room, Simon trailed behind, eyes brimming with tears he did not want her to see.
March 21st 2011.
Court resumed in the same room and in a similar way to the previous day but with the barristers taking turns to plead their client’s defence case to the Judge before sentencing. The prosecution barrister looked around the courtroom with an expression of total indifference to the words recorded on transcript. He didn’t care; it was his job to ignore all pleadings and prosecute everyone regardless and would make sure they were all behind bars by tea time. He was bored and impatient and Hetty could not take her eyes off him as he picked at his nails, fiddled with his wig and played on his blackberry phone. She knew he was the key player and none of the other barristers was a match for the insuperable Farnell when he finally rose to dismiss their protestations. He finished the morning by reminding the Judge of recent changes in relevant legislation and the Judge made notes and said he would pronounce sentence after a recess. Max Farnell was angry that the Judge allowed Henrietta to go out for lunch and had repeatedly acknowledged a difference between her and the co-accused. He needed her to be guilty, she had assets!
Once out of the oppressive building Henrietta clung to Simon’s cashmere arm as they strolled toward the local eateries and struggled for conversation for the first time since they met. After lunch they returned to the ugly court house and got into the empty lift.
“I love you.” Simon said as though there was nothing left to say.
“I know.” She replied and smiled affectionately at his tan face.
“You do?” He was stunned.
“I’ve known it for a long time. Have you ever been unfaithful to your wife? Have you ever considered a life with anyone else?”
“Yes on both counts, but now is not the time for a confession on that charge. Besides, a real gentleman never divulges bedroom secrets.” The lift doors opened for them to alight as Max Farnell barged in with his wig grasped in one hand and gown pulled hastily in to the lift with the other. He bowed his head graciously as the l
ift doors closed and he was gone.
“I don’t trust him.” said Simon.
“I know what you mean, but I don’t know why. What can he do to me?”
They sat quietly beside the courtroom doors to wait for Sarah, when suddenly Terry’s daughter bounded out of the court, speaking between sobs on her mobile phone.
“Mum, they are going to send Dad to prison. I knew he was bad, but…” Her mother interrupted with wise and compassionate words from a woman who knew her ex-husbands capacity for crime and cruelty. “But what will we tell them? They mustn’t know.” She referred to her younger brother and sister. “We should have done something...” she said as she became aware of Henrietta and Simon and ran to the end of the empty corridor and continued a pitiful conversation which was still unfortunately within earshot.
“Poor Aisha, I feel so sorry for her. No one deserves to have an evil parasite as a father.”
Simon found her remark incredulous and selfless beyond rational belief. He shook his head.
“What? Think about yourself for a change. You can’t help them now. Besides, you can guarantee Newman will have arranged funding for their future with your money.” Hetty shrunk back in her seat. He was probably right but she didn’t like to see suffering even if trying to prevent it had cost her so dearly.
Henrietta was called into Court and gave a backward glance toward the weeping girl at the window. The Judge entered with the customary protocol and began by focusing his attention on the other woman in the defendant’s box. He said that he believed she had been forced to make false entries in her husband’s company’s accounts and acknowledged that she had a child who would be placed in care if she was imprisoned, so he acted with discretionary compassion and told her that she was free to go.
The Unsuspecting Housewife Page 22