by Tony Salter
I’d seen the truth days earlier as soon as the new evidence was introduced. Everyone wanted to find me guilty – they just needed enough justification to legitimise their decision. What was the point of pretending? In any case, it wasn’t Simon’s fault, it was mine. I’d let my guard down and there were consequences.
I wasn’t intending to fire him, neither did I have any intention of spending years behind bars. All that the guilty verdict meant was that we had work to do.
‘Hello, Julie,’ he said, finally looking me in the eye. ‘I’m so sorry. I really thought …’
‘Save it, Simon. It’s what it is.’ I looked at his pale face and watched his left knee shaking. ‘Pull yourself together,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to fire you, although if you don’t stop shaking I might be tempted.’
‘Thank you, Julie,’ he said, visibly straightening. ‘I won’t let you down again.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘We’ve only got fifteen minutes. How long are they going to give me?’
‘It depends a lot how sympathetic the judge is. If we’re lucky …’
‘Can we cut the sugar-coated bullshit for once?’ I said. ‘We’ve both been sitting in that courtroom for weeks now. Is there anything to suggest that the judge, or anyone else for that matter, is going to show me any sympathy whatsoever? If we were back in the day, there’d be a lynch mob outside the door. We’re not going to be lucky. Just tell me how long.’
‘The sentencing guidelines specify nine to sixteen years,’ said Simon. ‘But they can make exceptions. If you want my honest opinion, I think this judge will play to the crowd and go for an exceptional life sentence.’
There was something chilling about the idea of a life sentence. Even though I knew most people were released much earlier, those words still made me shiver.
‘How long will I actually serve?’ I said.
‘If we don’t win on appeal … at least ten years,’ said Simon. ‘Probably more.’
‘You’d better get to work on the appeal, then,’ I said. ‘Because one thing’s for sure. I’m not rotting away in here for the next ten years.’
As I watched Simon walk out, I felt the anger steadily building inside me like steam in a boiler. For a while, there had been something masochistically fascinating about my arrest and the subsequent prosecution, but enough was enough. The amusement was long gone.
Relief
The ordeal was almost over.
I could hear shouting from outside. Thousands of spectators had turned up to jeer Julie Martin on the way to her sentencing. We’d been waiting for over an hour and there was still no sign of Julie or the judge.
Daz squeezed into the seat beside me, breathing heavily. He’d gone outside twenty minutes earlier to see what was happening and we’d started to worry about him.
‘So?’ said my dad.
‘Give us a sec,’ said Daz. ‘It’s a bloody zoo out there.’
‘What’s going on?’ I said, not feeling even slightly patient.
‘They can’t get the van past the crowds,’ said Daz. ‘There’s some sort of anti-privacy group running a flash mob. Loads of them blocking the street. All sorts of conspiracy theory stuff – Julie is the Anti-Christ – she’s stolen all our souls – it’s the End of Days. God knows, I think she’s an evil bitch, but that’s giving her a little too much credit.’
‘Maybe?’ I said, remembering a few things Julie had said when she was feeling boastful.
‘Anyway.’ Daz stood up and took off his coat. ‘They couldn’t get the van past until a few more cops showed up. She’s through now. Shouldn’t be long.’
Right on cue, a wave of silence swept across the courtroom and every head turned towards the side door. She walked in flanked by two policemen, one of whom had a fresh-looking band-aid stretched over his temple. Although her arms were handcuffed in front of her, Julie strolled in like a lioness, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth – she might have been going shopping.
The smile deepened as she caught my eye. What was going on behind those dark pupils? Was she so confident of overturning the conviction on appeal? The memory of the cold dark look Julie had given me the day before wouldn’t go away. She always had another trick up her sleeve and I knew she’d never forgive me for what I’d done to her. No point worrying about it though. This was a day to celebrate victory, not to wallow in “what-if” conjecturing.
The noise returned to the room only to fade away again as the judge took his seat and the Clerk of Court opened the proceedings.
All eyes were on the bench as His Honour Judge Davison picked up the stack of papers in front of him and began to speak in a slow, mellow baritone:
‘Janice Cargill (also known as Julie Martin and Jacqueline Daniels) you have been convicted, on overwhelming evidence, of causing grievous bodily harm with intent, contrary to section 29 of the Offences against the Person Act 1861, by throwing a corrosive substance at Police Constable Jason Hall in Carrington Street, Mayfair in the early evening of Saturday 26th March 2011.
‘You are a British citizen of good character, aged fifty-two.’ That was a joke. There was nothing about Julie that could allow her to claim good character.
‘Until recently you were the owner and founder of one of the world’s largest personal identification companies.
‘Having presided over your trial I am sure of the following facts.
‘In 2011, you were a committed anarchist, living amongst a small group of non-violent activists. At the same time, you had become associated with a more radical fringe group, linked to the so-called Black Bloc groups of violent extremists. It is my understanding that you were eager to impress your peers with your willingness to do “whatever it took” to help them to achieve their anti-society goals.
‘You decided between you, and in order to advance your extremist cause, to attack a number of police officers during the TUC-sponsored March for the Alternative which was due to take place in Central London on 26th March 2011. Your intent was to cause the police officers serious bodily harm and disfigurement and, as a result, to generate maximum media coverage for your cause. You were aware that the chosen methods of attack had the potential to lead to the deaths of one or more of the victims.
‘The planning took place over a period of time. In the weeks prior to the march, you and your fellow-extremists filled ten glass light bulbs with a highly corrosive ammonia-based substance. The day before the march, these bulbs were divided between three of you. You were allocated four bulbs.
‘On the day of the protest, you took the ammonia-filled light bulbs in a borrowed backpack and joined the march together with your girlfriend Fabiola Carlantino and your other moderate friends. You proceeded as though everything was normal and it was only once you reached Piccadilly, after three or four hours, that you separated from them and disappeared into the crowd.
‘We have seen extensive video footage showing how you lured PC Hall to chase after you by breaking windows along Shepherd Street with a hammer and, as he turned the corner to follow you into Carrington Street, you were waiting for him. You threw the first of the glass bulbs into his face at close range and then, as he fell to the ground, you threw a second one, again at his face. You then placed a note on the ground beside him before running off. Video footage shows that you then hid in a waste container on Bruton Lane until the early hours of the following morning.
‘Although we have heard from witnesses who were privy to the details of the plan, it has not been possible to identify the other two chosen attackers. However, as there were no other attacks, it must be assumed that, unlike you, they came to their senses and aborted their planned assaults.
‘PC Hall was 28 years old, had joined the police force in 2002, and was a well-liked, outgoing and popular personality. He was a diligent professional policeman and was due to be promoted to Sergeant within a few months of the attack. He was a keen club footballer and had also recently become engaged to be married. In March 2011, he was doing his duty and h
ad done absolutely nothing to deserve what you went on to do to him.
‘The attacks left PC Hall blind in both eyes, facially disfigured and in constant pain. Tragically, just nine months later, he took his own life.
‘As is clear from their moving Victim Personal Statements, the consequences of the attack, its brutality and the publicity, have had a severe and lasting impact on those close to PC Hall.
‘In addition, Dr Julia Prince, the police psychologist assigned to support PC Hall during his recuperation has stated that, in her professional opinion, the trauma and injuries following the incident were directly responsible for his subsequent decision to commit suicide.
‘Despite the three decades which have passed since this tragedy, I don’t believe that you have any real insight into the enormity of what you did, nor any genuine remorse for it either – your only regret seems to be that you have been finally apprehended and brought to justice before the courts. I am sure that many of those in court today, including myself, regret that it has taken so long.
‘I note that you have not submitted any pleas in mitigation and I have not been presented with any evidence of other mitigating factors. I would also note that you have continued to deny your involvement in this act despite the compelling evidence against you.
‘In different circumstances, I believe you would have been brought to trial for murder. However, as the prosecution explained in their opening statement, the length of time between the attack and PC Hall’s death precluded that course of action.
‘The prosecution submit that the offence falls within Category 1 of the Sentencing Guidelines and the counsel for the defendant does not disagree. The prosecution also submit, however, that this is an offence of exceptionally high seriousness, with a significant degree of planning or premeditation and which occurred while PC Hall was providing a public service or performing a public duty. As such, they submit that you are a dangerous offender and that it would be open to the court to exceed the current sentencing guidelines of nine to sixteen years and consider a life sentence which is the maximum allowed by law.
‘In light of the evidence, I am convinced that there was malicious intent behind this crime and believe that the prosecution submissions are both well founded and just and proportionate.
‘There is no mitigation, and whilst to state the obvious, this is not a murder case, it is nevertheless one of those rare cases where not only is the seriousness exceptionally high but the requirements of just punishment and retribution demand a commensurate penalty. Accordingly, I propose to impose the maximum sentence.
‘Janice Cargill. I therefore sentence you to life imprisonment with a minimum term of fifteen years.’
Granny hadn’t been in court.
When the trial date was originally set, she’d reminded us all of how “that woman” had already caused too much pain and heartache for our family; she had no intention of allowing her to steal another three months of her life.
Even though she made a good point, I couldn’t have sat back and waited to know what was going to happen to Julie. In any case, Daz and I were important prosecution witnesses and the option wasn’t available.
After the judge dropped his sentencing bombshell, we waited in the courtroom for the mob to leave. Julie hadn’t reacted to the life sentence – it was as though she’d put herself into a trance – and she walked out with the same cool nonchalance as before. There had been no repeat of the stare which had chilled me so much the day before.
Eventually we slipped past the press cordon, found our car and set off back to The Old Vicarage. Traffic was light by London standards and in less than two hours we were settled around the big garden table giving Granny a blow-by-blow update of the day.
‘But, what does that actually mean?’ Granny said. ‘Will she be in prison for life or for fifteen years?’
‘It’s quite confusing,’ said Liz. ‘Probably somewhere between the two. The good thing is that it will be at least fifteen years, which is more than we could have hoped for.’ Liz Simpson had once been a senior police officer and had helped as much as anyone to bring Julie to justice. She was, like all of us present, a victim of Julie’s malice and vindictiveness – the blinded policeman, Jason Hall, had been her fiancee.
Granny shook her head and drew a sharp breath. ‘I suppose I’m the only one here who finds all of this deliberately confusing?’ she said. ‘Never mind. The important thing is that it’s all over and that woman is getting what she deserves.’ She looked around the table, her eyes still sharp despite their wrinkled setting. ‘… And that is thanks to all of you. I know this last year has been extremely difficult, but it seems to be over at last and I wanted to say how proud I am of everyone here, especially you, Sam.’
I didn’t know what to say. Granny wasn’t known for speeches and certainly not for sharing her feelings.
‘Some of us aren’t able to be here to celebrate today,’ she said, ‘but I’m sure that Fabiola and John would be equally proud if they were still with us.’
My dad was sitting next to me and I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder. That was the moment, surrounded by family and friends, when I realised that the nightmare was really over. I’d been going through the motions of rebuilding a normal life; now I could stop treading water and get on with living for the future.
Darkness crept in, almost unnoticed. Lights came on, candles were lit and gradually the table emptied as people slipped off to bed one-by-one.
The last-but-one to go was Daz, discretely leaving ten minutes after Liz as though their bedtime journeys were unrelated. Sixty-year-olds really shouldn’t behave like teenagers – it wasn’t as if they were fooling anyone.
That left me and my dad, sipping our drinks and looking up at a fat orange moon. I knew he would be thinking about Mum and how some things couldn’t be fixed. I needed to put the past few years behind me. Maybe it was time for him to move on as well.
‘What now?’ he said as the moon slid behind a cloud.
‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘I’ve got shedloads of work to do with the new launch. That’ll keep me busy. I’m also still fiddling around with the idea of a novel. But beyond that …’
‘Not sure what I think of your novel idea,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t sound much like moving on. D’you remember what I said to you when you were flying out to LA that first time? When you were so hyped up and excited?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I do.’ I remembered his advice all too well, and I also remembered the ease with which I’d dismissed it.
‘You’ve changed, Sam,’ he said, eyes shining in the candlelight. ‘That was only a few years ago, but you’re a different person now.’
I felt a tiny spark of anger flash. Of course I’d changed after what I’d been through. What did he bloody expect? I kept it hidden, though – he was just being my dad.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I can feel it. I’m harder now … and much more cynical. I’m finding it tougher to trust people these days.’
‘That’s not such a bad thing,’ he said. ‘It happens to most of us at some point. No, that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s more that you seem to have forgotten how to be happy. You don’t smile and laugh like you used to.’
I looked up at him. ‘I don’t think I’ve forgotten, Dad,’ I said. ‘It’s different. It’s more like I don’t feel as though I deserve to be happy.’
‘That’s a stupid thing to say. Why wouldn’t you deserve to be happy just as much as anyone else?’
‘I never said I was being rational,’ I said, more sharply than intended. ‘I’m struggling to put things in perspective. I really thought I was going to die when Julie locked me in that safe room. I still wake up in the middle of the night struggling to breathe.’
‘It must be horrible …’
‘… And that’s not the worst nightmare,’ I said. ‘You weren’t there, but I can’t forget the time after Daz and I first met Liz and she told us who Julie really was … and about what she did to her father wh
en she was a teenager. She castrated him with a kitchen knife, for Christ’s sake! Can you imagine what it was like going back and getting into bed with her after that? I must have been mad. Just the thought of it makes me want to curl up in a ball and whimper.’
‘I guess we’ve not managed to find the time to talk about these things properly,’ Dad said.
‘Or we’ve both tried to pretend they didn’t happen? I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve been holding it all together by focusing on the trial, and now it’s over, I don’t know how I’m going to move on. I feel like such a naïve and stupid idiot. Just having fun and being happy seems a long way away. And there’s Mum, of course …’
‘Mum? How do you mean?’
‘Before Julie, I guess I’d managed to find a place to keep Mum in the background and get on with life. I was only two when she died after all. But with all I’ve learned, with her diaries and everything we’ve found out about her and Jax, she’s become much more “alive” to me – I miss her even more now if that makes sense?’
He nodded.
‘And I can’t ignore what Julie did to us – to me – it’s not easy to push away those feelings. She must have been planning to draw me in and seduce me for a long time, possibly my whole life. It’s more than creepy. What sort of person does that? How could I not have suspected something?’
‘The experts seem to have decided she’s a full-blown psychopath,’ he said. ‘I’m not convinced about all of these labels though. Trying to put people or ideas into fixed boxes never really works. As to how you could have been fooled, it appears that she has an exceptional ability to charm and manipulate people …’ He laughed. ‘… And, let’s face it, it’s not that difficult for a beautiful woman to lead an average young man by his dick, is it?’
‘You make a good point,’ I said, happy to change the mood. ‘While we’re on that topic, have I ever told you how she ended up seducing me?’
‘No,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘I’m guessing it wasn’t just an ordinary grope and fumble?’