‘Shush,’ said Adey, holding a finger to her lips. They were attracting the attention of the public gallery.
‘That’s it now,’ said Hussain. ‘West set you up. I’m going for him.’
‘Tread carefully,’ warned Anderson. ‘We don’t know the details yet.’
‘There’s one more thing,’ said Connor.
‘What, there’s more?’ asked Hussain.
Connor was nervous. Choosing his words carefully: ‘I can’t give evidence.’
‘What are you talking about? You are the main thrust of this appeal!’ Hussain’s outrage was again noticed by others in the courtroom.
‘I’m sorry. I’ve thought of nothing else. It would ruin my career. I’d never live it down.’
‘You gave us your word,’ said Hussain.
‘I want to give evidence, but…’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not like Anderson. I’m weak.’
‘You’re a coward,’ said Adey.
‘Leave it,’ said Anderson. He’d heard enough. Connor simply didn’t have it in him.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all Connor could say.
The others watched their star witness slope off to the public gallery.
‘Excuse me?’
‘What is it?’ snapped Hussain, before realising it was Mrs Granger who had spoken. She was standing at the side of counsels’ row with her husband.
She looked even more gaunt than when Hussain had last seen her. Haunted.
‘I want to give evidence.’
‘You? Why?’
Hands twitching: ‘I didn’t tell the truth at trial.’
Stunned, no one knew what to say.
‘I still think you’re guilty,’ she said, looking directly at Anderson. ‘But I never saw your face before the crash.’ Then, by way of explanation: ‘When I made me statement I were proper angry.’ She shook her head. ‘So I lied. Then I just stuck with it. It were wrong o’ me.’ She studied her hands, fidgeting with the buttons on her jacket. Sandra Granger’s anguish was plain to see.
‘Mrs Granger,’ said Hussain. ‘You do realise that you would be admitting perjury? You could go to prison.’
She took her husband’s hand. It had obviously been a matter of considerable debate in the Granger household. ‘I know.’
‘Right, well, thank you,’ said Hussain, gathering his thoughts. ‘If you’d like to wait outside, Miss Tuur, my colleague, will come and take a statement before we call you.’
The Grangers nodded and left the courtroom.
‘Quite a turn up,’ said Hussain. ‘I’ll ask for time whilst the statement is taken.’
‘A grieving mother going to jail?’ said Anderson. ‘We can’t call her.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Adey. ‘This could get us a retrial.’
‘I don’t want a retrial. I want to finish it today. I came here to find out what happened, not to sacrifice Sandra Granger to save my own skin. She’s got more guts and integrity than Sam Connor ever had.’
Adey just didn’t get it. Hussain did. ‘OK, my friend, I will go and tell her.’
He joined her on one of the old wooden pews, slotted between stone pillars along the corridor. ‘We’re not going to call you, Mrs Granger, so you have nothing to worry about.’
‘Why not? I don’t understand?’
‘Mr Anderson feels you’ve suffered enough. We are not here to punish you, but to find the truth about what caused this tragedy – for all of us.’
Sandra Granger stared at Hussain, unable to comprehend Anderson’s generosity.
She was mystified.
Chapter 89
‘All rise!’
The judges came back into court.
Anderson at his side, coupled with this new information about West, Hussain was rejuvenated. ‘My Lord, I call Orlando West, Queen’s Counsel.’
‘Orlando West?’ repeated the presiding judge. ‘He only gave character evidence in the trial. This Court always finds it a pleasure to hear the dulcet tones of Mr West, but we of course accept the evidence he gave the first time. There’s no fresh evidence here.’
West, sitting in the gallery, sensed something wasn’t right.
‘My Lord, there are some new matters we would wish to explore.’
‘Explore! This is an appeal, not a fishing expedition, Mr Hussain. Is there even a witness statement?’
‘Due to the pressure of time, I’m afraid not.’
The Court was losing patience with Hussain. ‘This really is wholly unacceptable.’
‘I can assure Your Lordship, I will take this very shortly.’
‘Very well,’ said the judge. ‘But let me make it clear, so far this Court is singularly unimpressed.’
Hussain lowered his gaze to acknowledge the admonishment.
West made his way to the witness box, his customary self-assurance absent. He took the oath. The judges smiled at him, lest it be thought he had displeased the Court. West returned an obsequious bow.
‘Here we go,’ Hussain whispered to Anderson, before turning to the witness. He began: ‘John Anderson was your pupil?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘You took him on as a favour to his father?’
‘Yes, but we were glad to have him.’
‘You gave him an enviable start at the Bar?’
‘That’s for others to judge,’ West replied, smiling at Mr Justice Billings, more relaxed now that he knew the subject matter of this examination.
‘And as the years passed, you became not just his mentor, but a very dear family friend?’
‘I like to think so.’
‘You know so. You are godfather to his children?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘You, more than most, were able to witness first hand, the utter shock and devastation that the events of 24th January had on John Anderson and his family?’
‘I did.’
‘My Lord,’ said Hussain, switching his attention for a moment, ‘I say that, meaning no disrespect to the family of Molly Granger, whose own loss is immeasurable.’
‘I’m sure that is understood by all, Mr Hussain.’
Hussain refocused on his target. ‘And in his hour of need, he came to you to ask but one favour – that you defend him?’
The question surprised West. Why would he ask that? ‘He did, but sadly I felt it was inappropriate for me to act, because of our friendship.’
‘But you could have accepted the brief, couldn’t you? I mean ultimately, it was a matter for your own conscience.’
‘My own professional judgement,’ came the measured response.
‘If you had known something about the events of 24th January that John Anderson did not, then of course you could not represent him.’
‘Obviously.’
‘If that were the case, you wouldn’t touch the brief with a barge pole, would you?’
‘What are you getting at?’ West’s reply had a sense of urgency. Flustered. What was coming next?
‘Is that why you turned your friend down? Because you knew something?’
‘Certainly not!’
Mr Justice Billings leaned forward: ‘This is quite extraordinary, Mr Hussain. I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but we commend Mr West’s very difficult and apposite decision.’
Time for the kill: ‘Do you recognise this person, Mr West?’ Hussain handed the usher the post-mortem photograph of Heena Butt.
West studied the photograph. ‘This person is deceased so it’s difficult, but no, I can’t say I do.’
‘That is Heena Butt, the woman found dead in the applicant’s car. Do you know her?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘But she came to see you in chambers on the morning of the 24th, didn’t she?’
An almost imperceptible pause before West answered: ‘Well, I suppose it’s possible, but I certainly don’t remember it. I see countless people. As a lawyer yourself, you’ll appreciate that.’
Outfoxed, Hussain was beginning to panic. In a last desperate lunge: ‘Were
you in on this in some way?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Were you party to a conspiracy to set Mr Anderson up?’
West burst out laughing. ‘Ridiculous!’
‘To get him out of the way?’
‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’
‘So that you could take his place. After all, you were having an affair with his wife, were you not?’
‘Do I have to answer that, My Lord?’
‘So you don’t deny it then?’ pressed Hussain.
‘No you do not have to, Mr West,’ interjected the old judge, incandescent with rage. ‘Mr Hussain, I am appalled by what I have just witnessed. Eminent Queen’s Counsel, Mr West, came here to assist the defence by giving character evidence on behalf of the applicant and you trick him into the box and accuse him, apparently without any evidential foundation, of being responsible for this tragedy and having extra-marital relations with the applicant’s wife.’ The aged judge paused to catch his breath. Then: ‘Rest assured, I will be reporting you to your governing body. You are not fit to wear that gown.’
Hussain was not only shaken by the reprimand, but embarrassed to have been outmanoeuvred so easily. He whispered to his client, ‘I’m so sorry, John.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Anderson replied, hiding his disappointment. ‘He’s a worthy opponent.’
They watched West retake his seat in the public gallery next to Mia. Had Connor lied to them? Maybe Adey was mistaken? He didn’t know which scenario he wanted to be the truth.
Billings wasn’t finished: ‘I take it that concludes the live evidence?’
Stapleton addressed the Court. ‘My Lord, the defence made a disclosure request of the Crown this morning, which—’
‘This morning?’ repeated Mr Justice Billings. ‘Why on earth wasn’t that done sooner, Mr Hussain?’
‘Some information came to us very late, My Lord.’
He rolled his eyes at his brother judges.
‘I will need five minutes with the witness, My Lord,’ Stapleton continued. ‘To consider any possible disclosure and then I can tender him for cross-examination.’
‘And this goes to what issue?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, My Lord. The defence assert that MI5 may hold some information pertinent to this appeal.’
‘MI5? Were they in some way involved?’
‘Not that I’m aware of.’
The judge shook his head, making his disgust at the way this appeal was being conducted abundantly clear. After a deep sigh: ‘Very well, five minutes. We’ll rise.’
Chapter 90
Hussain was glad of the respite from the judges’ glowers.
Anderson brushed off Hussain’s continued apologies for the disastrous cross, but inside he was distraught. They needed a miracle.
‘Right,’ said Stapleton, sliding along counsels’ row to where the defence were sitting. ‘We’ve managed to get someone here from MI5. His name is Saul Pennington.’
‘Does he know anything?’ asked Hussain.
‘Only this: they were aware of Doran. They knew he was bitter about his 2003 conviction and bore a grudge against the police and lawyers involved. It’s got no relevance to this case.’
Hussain wasn’t prepared to just accept it. ‘You’ll have to stick him in the box.’
‘Sure,’ replied Stapleton, unconcerned about this apparently peripheral piece of disclosure.
As she moved back to the prosecution team, Anderson caught Taylor’s eye. They read each other’s mind – this guy, Pennington, knew more than he was letting on.
‘All rise!’ The judges came back into court.
Hussain was in a flap, whispering to Anderson: ‘I don’t know what I’m going to ask this witness.’
Anderson poured him a glass of water. Hussain snatched nervously at it, causing droplets to splash over Anderson’s papers.
‘My Lord,’ Stapleton announced. ‘I call Saul Pennington from MI5.’
Anderson, desperately trying to think of some line of cross-examination for Hussain, dabbed at the wet sheets with a tissue Adey had handed him.
Once the witness was sworn, Stapleton tendered him to Hussain, who rose slowly to his feet. What was he going to ask?
Anderson stared at one particular piece of paper from his file:
John Anderson, Spinningfields Chambers – 05man.
The water had made the ink run; the words were blurred. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat. Could it be he had the answer? Thoughts crystallizing, he pulled at Hussain’s gown, who was still trying to think of his first question. ‘Would you like me to take this witness?’
‘Are you sure?’ Hussain was more than happy to let Anderson take the flak.
‘Yes, if the Court allows it. It’s the most important cross-examination of my life. I should be the one to do it.’
Hussain nodded. ‘My Lord, Mr Anderson will take this witness.’
‘What?’ erupted Billings. ‘You are the advocate, you will take the witness.’
‘My Lord, it is open to the applicant to sack me in any event, and conduct the hearing as a litigant in person. Ultimately, it is his right.’
Hussain had a point. Reluctantly: ‘Oh, very well, let’s get on with it.’
Chapter 91
John Anderson winced in pain as he rose to his feet, resting an arm on the lectern to spare his injured leg the full weight of his body. Much had happened since he last conducted a cross-examination. It felt strange, not least because he was without the protection of a wig and gown. Anderson took a deep breath. Everything had come down to this.
He began: ‘What is your official job title, Mr Pennington?’
‘I don’t really have a title as such.’
‘Are you a field operative?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘It’s just that I want to establish how high up you are in the organisation. Are you a fall guy that knows very little, sent here to answer questions, or are you a decision maker?’
‘Well, I’m part of a team but I can answer your questions.’
‘Thank you, Mr Pennington.’ Now the gentle sparring was over, Anderson decided to up the ante: ‘It was disclosed to us today that you had information about Mr Doran, otherwise known as Mr Mohammed.’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘You had that prior to the 24th January?’
‘Yes.’
‘That he was bitter about his conviction?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was he making threats towards me?’
‘You and a lot of other people. He’s a very disturbed individual.’
‘How did you come by this information?’
‘He came to our attention during an undercover operation.’
‘What was the nature of that operation?’
‘That’s very sensitive, classified information. I don’t want to answer that.’
‘Well, is the operation still ongoing?’
‘No.’
‘Were arrests made?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, answering my question will not compromise any operations, will it?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘So, I will ask you again, what was the nature of that operation?’
Pennington glanced sideways at Stapleton.
Anderson reined him in: ‘There’s no point looking at her, Mr Pennington. The way it works, you see, is if you have sensitive material that you don’t want to disclose, it’s given to the CPS and Miss Stapleton reviews whether it is disclosable. But MI5 didn’t give the prosecution anything, did they?’
‘No, we didn’t.’
‘No, you kept them in the dark. So now, unless His Lordship says otherwise, you will answer my questions, understood?’
‘Yes.’
Anderson was already in control. His Lordship couldn’t help but be impressed.
‘So, the operation, Mr Pennington?’
‘We had information that two Pakistani nationals, known criminals, were a
ttempting to set up a terrorist cell in the Manchester area.’
‘Go on.’
Pennington huffed, annoyed that he was having to divulge the information. ‘They were seeking to recruit what we call “young impressionables” that attended Manchester Central Mosque. One of those they enlisted was Mohammed Mohammed, formerly known as Michael Doran.’
‘Right, and can I assume you had an undercover operative who infiltrated the cell?’
‘Yes. That operative heard the threats made by Doran towards yourself.’
‘Anything else that might be important you want to tell the Court?’
After some hesitation: ‘No, I don’t think so.’
Anderson flopped onto his seat.
Relieved it was over, Pennington made to leave the witness box.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Pennington,’ said Anderson, getting back on his feet. ‘Please come back. It’s my leg, it gave way. Does that sometimes. I’m not finished.’
Pennington stopped.
‘Did Heena Butt work for MI5?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.
Stapleton got up. ‘I think that’s enough, My Lord. Mr Anderson is fishing for evidence. The workings of MI5 are highly classified for obvious reasons. Can we let Mr Pennington get back to protecting our shores?’
‘Yes, I agree,’ replied Mr Justice Billings. ‘Thank you for coming, Mr Pennington.’
‘My Lord,’ said Anderson. ‘Just one question that might lead to something − if not, I’m finished with the witness and would abandon this appeal.’
Too good an offer to refuse. ‘Very well, just that one matter, Mr Anderson.’
‘Mr Pennington,’ said Anderson, holding up a piece of paper. ‘This was found in Heena Butt’s handbag. I thought it read: “John Anderson – Spinningfields Chambers – 05 man”. But I got the last word wrong, didn’t I?’
Pennington appeared to study the document. ‘I don’t know.’
‘It actually says “Osman”, doesn’t it?’
Hussain suddenly realised where this was going.
‘I don’t know,’ Pennington replied.
‘As an MI5 officer you must be aware of the famous case of Osman v UK?’
Death By Dangerous Page 24