Cut-Throat Defence: The dramatic, twist-filled legal thriller

by Olly Jarvis

Once the jury had been sent home, Bingham made a submission of no case to answer, based on the paucity of evidence against his client, which was adopted by Katterman.

  Jack was worn out. He had to give it one last, supreme effort. ‘My Lord, to allow the prosecution of Carl Marpit to continue would be an abuse of the process of the court. It has now been revealed, not through disclosure but in cross-examination of the Officer in the Case, that there was, firstly, a matter that should have been disclosed, and secondly, that it related to a connection between an informant and the defendant’s daughter. This calls into question the integrity of the NCA…’

  ‘Mr Kowalski,’ interrupted the judge. ‘What do you say is the relevance of Melanie Marpit working at Milo’s? How does it support your client’s case?’ Jack tried to waffle on but the judge came in again. ‘And since you cannot tell me what the relevance of this evidence is, you cannot show any prejudice to your lay client.’

  ‘The test is whether the public would consider the particular abuse of executive power so abhorrent that a prosecution should not continue. The NCA is an agent of the executive.’

  The judge shook his head. ‘No, Mr Kowalski, all you have established is that the officer may – and I stress the word may – have been overcautious with disclosure, which you ultimately received anyway. There is no evidence of dishonesty or bad faith on the part of the NCA, or the withholding of any other disclosure. I can tell you now that I am against you, Mr Kowalski. I will not stay this indictment.’

  Jack sat down, dejected.

  The judge then invited Mr Otterwood to respond to the submissions of Bingham and Katterman ‒ they were in with a chance.

  Otterwood made the points for the prosecution in his usual forceful manner.

  The judge was plainly in two minds. ‘Thank you, gentlemen. I need to consider these submissions carefully. I will give judgement at three o’clock.’ He rose.

  The Rako and Purley camps were convinced their cases would get kicked out. Katterman was talking pompously to his team. Jack could hear bits: ‘He clearly got the point… There was real merit in it… He doesn’t want to chuck it, but he knows he has to.’

  Conversely, Jack’s case was all but over. Katterman gave Jack a supercilious smirk.

  Lara was full of praise. ‘Great cross-examination, Jack. The submission wasn’t bad either. You did your best and you did it well. I’m happy, and so should you be.’

  She was right, but losing never felt good.

  They had some time to kill until court resumed at three o’clock. Jack had already made plans. He told Lara to follow him.

  Outside court, they were ambushed by Jim Smith. ‘I just wanted to say thanks for that attribution, Mr Kowalski. Much appreciated, especially in front of the boys from the nationals.’

  ‘Mr Smith, we have a favour to ask you, but not here.’

  ‘No problem. Why don’t you come over the road to my office? In say, twenty minutes?’

  Lara was confused. She waited for an explanation.

  Once Jim had walked away Jack said to her quietly, ‘Your parents.’

  She understood. He had thrown Jim’s name into the cross-examination to soften him up, so they could see if he had any information on her parents’ deaths.

  He never ceased to surprise her.

  Chapter 51

  Jim’s office was only five minutes’ walk from the court. It was a mess, piled high with papers, cuttings and notebooks full of jottings and doodles. Jim was sitting behind his desk. He beckoned them in. ‘Take a seat, anywhere you can.’ They cleared some newspapers off two chairs in front of his desk and sat down. ‘So what can I do for you? Is it about the case? The Don?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Jim. It is not about the case. I’m going to hand over to Lara, but I’d better introduce her properly first. This is Lara Panassai. You’ll remember her parents. They were killed in a car crash. Her father was a barrister – Michael.’

  Jack needn’t have given such an introduction. Jim remembered.

  ‘I knew your father, from the courts. I liked him. Everyone did.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m just trying to speak to people, to find out as much as I can about what happened. Get some kind of closure, I suppose. I have a lot of unanswered questions.’

  Jim sat back in his chair and nodded. ‘I was one of those people. It all got very ugly. I got thrown out of the funeral, you know. I was only there to pay my respects. It was horrible.’

  Jack pitched in. ‘We’d heard something of that. I wondered if it was you.’

  ‘Protecting the reputation of Paramount was paramount, if you’ll forgive the pun. They just wanted to get him buried – well, cremated – as quickly as possible and move on. Understandable I suppose, but Michael’s memory was just erased, because he’d been drink driving. His chambers couldn’t forgive him. But something wasn’t right about the whole thing. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Nobody would talk to me. The police thought it was open and shut. I had to move on to the next story, limited resources and all that.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you have a file or anything on the case?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Can’t you see this office?’ He grinned sarcastically. ‘Do I look like a man that wouldn’t keep proper files? Let’s see.’

  He emptied the contents of his waste paper bin on to the floor, turned it upside down and stood on top of it. From floor to ceiling, the whole side wall of the office was covered with shelves full of piles of old, seemingly random papers and folders. He fingered his way along one shelf until, miraculously, he pulled out a battered, dusty old folder. ‘Here we go. The Panassai file.’ Stepping down, he handed it to Lara triumphantly. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for.’

  Lara received the file as if it held the secrets of the universe. ‘Thank you, Jim. I really appreciate this.’

  As they were leaving, Jim asked, impishly, ‘I take it you haven’t spoken to Jack’s mate about it at all?’

  Jack and Lara were puzzled.

  ‘Lionel Katterman. I was being sarcastic. I know he can be an arse, but he was very affected by your father’s death. He tried to hide his grief, but Michael was his best friend.’

  Chapter 52

  His Lordship read a carefully worded judgement to the court.

  ‘I have considered with great care the powerful submissions made by Mr Bingham and Mr Katterman. I agree that this prosecution has some weaknesses, in particular the lack of any direct evidence against the defendants. The case against them is entirely circumstantial.’ He paused momentarily. ‘However, a circumstantial case can sometimes be a very powerful one. The undisputed facts, in my judgement, call for an explanation. All the points that are skillfully made by defence counsel can be made to the jury in their closing speeches. In my judgement, Mr Rako and Mr Purley do have a case to answer. Ten-thirty tomorrow, gentlemen.’

  The case against all three defendants would continue.

  Jack and Lara were relieved, to some extent at least. Although likely only a stay of execution, there was a chance that the jury would convict all three defendants, making the defeat marginally less humiliating.

  There was nothing worse than being the only defendant convicted in a cut-throat defence.

  Chapter 53

  They walked across to Romek’s for a late lunch. Now that submissions were over they could relax a little. With no client to put in the box, the rest of the case would be spent just going through the motions. In any event, Jack was a spent force. Only adrenaline was keeping him going. He phoned his father and was relieved to hear there had been no further problems.

  Romek shimmied his way over to them, clicking his fingers like a flamenco dancer. ‘My two little magpies! Never one without other.’

  ‘You can tell he’s Mariusz’s brother,’ said Lara dryly.

  ‘Sit, sit. I bring you lovely, fresh gołąbki.’

  ‘What is gołąbki?’ asked Lara, as they sat down in one of the booths.

  ‘It’s meat and rice, but wrapped in
cabbage, cooked in a tomato sauce,’ explained Jack.

  ‘Sounds interesting.’

  After another delicious lesson in Polish cuisine, Romek cleared the table so that Jack could unpack his laptop and start browsing the net.

  ‘Jack, you’re going to have to let it go, you know.’

  ‘I can’t till it’s over. I haven’t closed my case yet,’ he replied, without taking his eyes off the screen.

  ‘We haven’t got a case. We don’t have any witnesses to call!’

  ‘Talking of letting go, Lara, why haven’t you opened Jim’s file? I thought you’d be desperate to read it?’

  ‘I am,’ she retorted, then added, ‘I don’t want to rush it. I want to savour the moment. I feel reading it might bring them closer in some way.’

  Her honesty surprised him. Jack felt bad for teasing her. He gave her his full attention now. ‘I can understand that.’

  Lara grabbed the screen and turned it towards herself. ‘Here’s the deal. I’ll keep searching for something, if you play some Chopin.’

  ‘You’re starting to sound like my old man. I can hardly keep my eyes open.’ Nevertheless, he moved over to the stool, took off his collar and tie, and began to play.

  When he finally stopped, he could see Lara was staring at the computer screen. ‘No applause?’ he called out, disappointed.

  ‘Come and check this out.’

  It was a newspaper photograph of Elvis Boyle, just after his acquittal on a murder charge. He was trying to hide his face.

  Jack studied the photograph intently, but could see nothing of significance. ‘Give us a clue?’

  ‘The man standing behind Boyle.’ Lara’s excitement was infectious.

  Jack peered closer at the entourage ‒ a clear image of a man in a pinstriped suit. A watch chain snaked from his waistcoat pocket. A moustache, and even a large mole on his forehead, just as Marpit had described.

  ‘Lara Panassai, I think you’ve just found Wolfy!’

  Chapter 54

  ‘Mai–sie, Mai–sie, give me your answer, do.’ A guttural male laugh from the other side of the door; he enjoyed his work.

  More knocks, then a pause.

  Maisie didn’t recognize the man through the spyhole. A deep scar down one side of his face. Trouble.

  ‘Mai–sie, open up. I know you’re in there. I’m not leaving.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Only to talk, love. To ask you something.’

  Terrified, she slowly unlocked the door and the metal gate. A lifetime of taking orders from men – too late to change now. She took a step back and waited. Sick to the stomach.

  The door burst open. Two men came in. One of them pushed her down on to the sofa, hand gripping her throat.

  She could see the excitement in his eyes.

  He could see the terror in hers. ‘You’re right to be scared, Maisie. I’m going to hurt you. You will always remember this day.’

  Another pair of hands held her arms above her head. She couldn’t move.

  The man showed her a knife, small and sharp. ‘Do you know what happens to little girls who stick their snouts in places they shouldn’t?’

  She struggled, in vain. ‘No, please,’ she begged, half choking.

  He sliced across her face in one skilful movement, her detached nose now held between thumb and blade. ‘Here it is, Maisie,’ he declared triumphantly. ‘Now you look like a little piggy.’

  Eyes wide.

  ‘Say oink, Maisie. Oink oink.’

  She passed out.

  Chapter 55

  Lara’s phone bleeped ‒ a text message. She’d left it on the table. Jack saw it flash up on the display. ‘Call me’. From Matthew.

  Lara came back from the toilets and noticed the message. ‘I’ve just got to make a call,’ she said, going outside.

  Why was she so secretive about this man?

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked, as she came back in. ‘Work problems?’

  ‘Yes. Sorted it.’

  Was she lying to him? If so, why? She probably had her reasons, he thought.

  Jack mulled over Lara’s discovery, which had thrown up a new problem. ‘Only Marpit can identify the man in the picture as Wolfy.’

  ‘Why don’t we just give the picture to the prosecution and ask them who it is?’ suggested Lara. ‘If he’s an NCA officer and they know him, it would be a hell of a risk to deny they could identify him.’

  Jack nodded, half in agreement. ‘We might have to, but wouldn’t we be handing control of the case back to the prosecution? We’d be tipping them off that we might actually be onto something. First, let’s try and find out who he is ourselves.’

  Lara admired Jack’s optimism, but they only had until the morning to find out, then they would have to call their evidence as part of the defence case. She had an idea. ‘Why don’t we start with Maisie? If Wolfy’s been handling Marpit, maybe he’s been at Milo’s, handling Spears. She might recognize him. She might even know the connection to Boyle.’

  It was a long shot but they had nothing else. ‘We just need to be careful,’ said Jack. ‘Especially since all roads seem to lead to Elvis Boyle.’

  Just as they reached the door, Jack stopped and surveyed the restaurant. ‘Let’s give your car a rest,’ he whispered. ‘For all we know, the NCA are in here. Follow me.’ He led her through to the back of the restaurant and into the kitchens.

  Organized chaos. Various chefs were shouting to each other in Polish and preparing food for the after-work crowd. They saw Jack and teased, ‘Janusz! Get out! Romek sacked you, remember? You can’t cook!’

  Romek, who was overseeing the kneading of some pierogi pastry, noticed Jack just in time to see him reaching for some keys hanging on a hook by the back door.

  ‘Wujek, I need a favour. We need to use your van for an hour or two.’

  Romek was horrified. He started to wag his finger at Jack and shake his head. ‘Nie, nie, nie!’

  The last time Jack had used the van he had crashed and all but written it off.

  Jack ignored Romek’s resolute refusal and snatched the keys, shouting, ‘Thanks, Wujek.’

  As they ran out, Lara muttered, slightly awkwardly, ‘Thanks, Romek.’

  He held his hands up to the heavens and cursed.

  Chapter 56

  Jack sent Angela a text message en route to say they were coming. He got a reply: ‘Maisie is in hospital because of you. Stay away.’

  ‘Overdose?’ assumed Lara.

  Jack diverted to the offices of Dobkin & Co., only a stone’s throw from the heart of Moss Side. He needed to stop, to try and make sense of things. Angela’s text had knocked him for six. The stress of the trial, lack of sleep, it had all caught up with him. No energy, he stared straight ahead, making no attempt to get out of the van. ‘It was my own vanity,’ he said, admonishing himself. ‘I was so desperate to get a good result for Maisie – to get her released. That’s all I cared about, not what was in her best interests.’

  Lara looked at Jack and scoffed. ‘You were her lawyer, not her social worker. You’re not seriously saying that you’re supposed to make judgements about what’s best for her? You are not the judge. Your job is to get the best result you can – to get her out of jail as soon as possible.’

  ‘She wasn’t ready to be released. She needed more help. If she’d received a custodial sentence, she wouldn’t be in hospital.’

  Lara became more exasperated at Jack’s analysis. ‘You can’t hold yourself responsible for the actions of clients once they’re released. You’re not thinking straight.’

  Jack was no longer listening. He was riddled with guilt, however misguided.

  His thoughts moved on. He began to question their role in Marpit’s case. ‘Lara, we are defending a man who, on any view, was involved in distributing Class A drugs into the UK, into Manchester. Maisie is just one of thousands whose lives are being destroyed by these people, motivated purely by greed. What are we doing?’

  �
�Listen, Jack, Marpit has given us instructions that amount to a defence. We have a duty to run it, to the best of our ability. It’s not for us to judge him. That would usurp the functions of the judge and jury. I can’t believe I’m having to tell you this, Jack. Snap out of it.’

  Lara’s harsh tone had some effect. Jack got out of the van and followed Lara inside.

  Dobkin’s offices were typical of a legal-aid solicitors – run-down, cramped, files everywhere. Ken, the only one still in the office, was in his room. It was the only separate space from the open-plan area where all the other fee-earners and secretaries had their desks.

  Jack could see Ken through the open door, talking into a Dictaphone, held between cheek and shoulder, while trying to look through a pile of files. He seemed harassed. On seeing Jack and Lara he stopped dictating and waved them into his office. ‘Lara, I can’t find the Adejobi file – the supermarket stabbing. The complainant became the deceased an hour ago. The police want to re-interview Adejobi for murder, tonight.’ He looked at Jack and rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll have to attend, even if it’s only to advise him to go no comment. If I’m not there, he’ll get some other solicitor and before I know it, I’ve lost the case.’

  Lara fished out the file and handed it to Ken, who said, ‘Jack, Lara told me about your dad’s place. How is he?’

  ‘Putting on a brave face.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ring you to say thanks for doing such a good job on Marpit, and to say well done. Lara phoned me about the submission. You didn’t embarrass yourself, or the firm.’

  Jack was surprised and pleased to have the endorsement of such an important local solicitor.

  ‘There have been quite a few developments since I phoned you this afternoon, Ken,’ said Lara. She gave him a sombre history of Maisie Harris and how it had caused them to question, for a moment, their resolve to continue defending a drug trafficker who had lied, then absconded.

  Ken clearly understood, having himself had a number of challenges to his conscience over the years. He offered some good advice. ‘Only last week a man had his conviction quashed in the Court of Appeal, having served a ten-year sentence for raping a six-year-old boy.’