by Olly Jarvis
Jack dreaded the reaction to his next point. ‘My Lord, there may be a section 41 application in relation to the complainant’s sexual history.’
As expected, Skart exploded: ‘You know perfectly well, Mr Kowalski, that questions relating to Miss Riley’s previous sexual history are inadmissible where the defence is one of consent.’
‘Unless the previous sexual behaviour was similar to the current allegations, My Lord.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Skart replied, making his cynicism obvious. ‘Similar fact evidence – I do hope you have more than a predisposition to submissive sexual conduct?’
In truth, Jack didn’t know what he had yet. ‘I will of course serve a skeleton argument.’
‘I wait with bated breath,’ Skart replied. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, thank you, My Lord.’ Jack sat down, only to feel Statham prodding his back.
‘We haven’t had confirmation of Riley’s good character,’ the solicitor whispered.
‘What?’ Why had Statham waited until Jack sat down to tell him that? He was being made to look an idiot – by his own solicitor.
Skart began to address McVey.
‘Apologies, My Lord,’ interrupted Jack, ‘We still await disclosure of any previous convictions of the complainant.’
Irritated by Jack’s interruption, Skart asked: ‘Miss McVey?’
She was quickly on her feet. ‘That will be attended to, My Lord, and I should add that enquiries are being made as to whether the defendant has any convictions in his country of origin.’
‘Very well. Bail conditions?’
‘Non-contact with Miss Riley and not to leave the UK.
‘Thank you, until next week.’
‘All Rise.’
Jack slumped into his seat. He’d almost forgotten the stresses of being in court, and the damage a public humiliation could do to one’s confidence.
‘A word, Mr Kowalski,’ said Statham, making it sound more like an order than a request.
Jack followed Nowak and Boswell into a conference room.
Statham launched his attack: ‘That didn’t go very well, Mr Kowalski. The judge doesn’t seem to like you.’
‘Total disaster,’ agreed Boswell. ‘It’s gotta be said, you didn’t seem to know what you were doing.’
Jack pointed a finger at Statham. ‘You set me up. Why didn’t you tell me it was a digital case? Or about the previous?’ Jack turned to Nowak. ‘He wanted me to look a fool, so you’d sack me.’
‘Is this true?’ Nowak asked, unsure who to believe.
Jack didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Actually Gustaw, it was a good thing he did that. To show you anyone can be ripped to pieces in there, especially a very junior barrister like me. It’s not too late to change counsel.’
‘We can have a silk instructed today, Gustaw,’ said Statham, seizing his opportunity.
Jack continued: ‘And don’t think I mind if you sack me. Defending a case like this when my own instructing solicitor is briefing against me is not my idea of fun.’
They all waited for Nowak to make a decision.
Taking control of his case for the first time, Nowak squared up to Statham. ‘I’m a team player, Mr Statham. Mr Kowalski stays. You work together, or you go. Do you understand?’
Jack was taken aback to see this side of Nowak, commanding and dominant. It seemed obvious to Jack now: to command the midfield, at his level, required a strong personality. But what would a jury make of it?
‘OK,’ Statham replied, resigned to the situation. ‘We work as a team.’
‘Thank you,’ acknowledged Jack. There was no time to bear grudges. ‘I want everything you’ve got, no more drip feeding.’
Statham nodded.
‘Get someone to create a viewing log of the CCTV. Makes it easier for the jury if we use it in the trial. I want everything your investigator has turned up on Miss Riley – chapter and verse – including any statements from her exes.’
Statham got a pad out and made a note.
‘And Gustaw, just so we know, previous convictions in Poland, are the prosecution going to find anything?’
‘No, Mr Kowalski. Nothing like that.’
‘OK, I think that’s everything for now. I’m going to get stuck into the case. Let’s have another con in a few days to take stock.’
‘Take stock?’ asked Nowak.
‘To see if we are ready for the trial,’ Jack clarified.
It was now clear to everyone who was running the defence team.
Once the men had left, Jack closed the door behind them, took off his wig and sat down, grateful for a moment to gather his thoughts. How was he going to win this case? Where was the vital piece of evidence that could make a jury think twice about relying on Lauren Riley’s account? From what Statham had told him, there was virtually nothing to undermine her, and nowadays, juries hated footballers.
A knock on the door. ‘Hello Jack. Why are you hiding in here?’
‘Lara! How are you?’
‘I heard you were here today, and against Boudica?’
Jack raised his hands, palms turned up. ‘Just my luck. She hasn’t spoken to me yet.’
‘I wouldn’t worry, that’s her style, does it all in court.’
‘Yes, I’m learning that the hard way.’ He had to say something more, about the last few months. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about Katterman getting off, and how I let you down. I’m so sorry.’
Lara shrugged.
‘I can’t believe he got away with it. How are you coping?’
‘He’ll get his comeuppance soon enough, people like that always do.’ She changed the subject: ‘I brought this.’ She tossed a brief, wrapped in the customary pink ribbon, onto the table in front of him. ‘Burglary and GBH. It’s all online but I thought you’d want a paper copy.’
Panic set in. He couldn’t handle another case right now. ‘Lara, I’ve only accepted the Nowak trial because—’
‘Because it’s a private payer?’ Her brow furrowed. ‘You can’t pick and choose your cases, Jack. Remember the cab-rank rule? You can’t pick and choose.’
‘No, it’s just…’ His voice trailed off. How could he explain that he wasn’t ready to get back on the rollercoaster of relentless trials; that the Nowak case was more than enough to cope with?
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’ve already booked it in with Bob, so it’s too late, you’ve got to do it, or are you too good for legal aid work now?’
‘No, of course not,’ Jack replied. How could he refuse her? ‘When’s the trial?’
‘Next week – Thursday.’
‘Next Thursday? I’m sorry, I can’t do that date.’ Jack felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. ‘Nowak starts on Monday, Bob should’ve said.’
‘I know, you’ll just have to do the rape in three days. Shouldn’t be a problem.’
Jack wanted to protest. How would he cope? But it was for Lara. ‘OK, I’ll try.’ He picked up the brief to seal the instruction.
‘Don’t let me down. I’m worried about this one. Something’s not right.’
Jack smiled. ‘Nothing new there, then.’
Lara’s expression softened. ‘You look tired, Jack.’
‘Don’t sleep so well, these days.’ Neither spoke for a moment. ‘What’s the latest with Smart?’
Lara rolled her eyes. ‘What a nightmare. We haven’t been able to take any instructions off him. Talks in riddles all the time. Religious nonsense.’
‘Is he fit to plead?’
‘Ken doesn’t think so. He’s just been assessed by a couple of shrinks. One way or another, he’s being tried in a couple of weeks. I’ll be glad to see the back of him.’
‘And do you agree with Ken – that he’s mentally ill?’
‘Why the sudden interest? I thought this would be the last case you’d want to discuss?’
‘It’s weird, I can’t stop thinking about it. Wish I could.’
Lara pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I just do
n’t know. You’d have to be ill to do something like that – to your own wife. Some would say the Bible bashing is just mindless babbling, but if he can spout that shit, then maybe he could appreciate that what he was doing was wrong?’
Jack thought through the implications. ‘If the judge agrees with you, it’s life with little chance of parole.’
‘Yes, but if he’s unfit to plead and the jury finds he did the physical act, he gets a cushy time in hospital.’
‘Yes, but for a long time.’
‘Better than prison.’
‘So you think he’s acting up on purpose?’
Lara shrugged. ‘Who knows? Who cares? Someone else can decide that.’
Jack envied Lara’s detachment. He caught himself staring. Her beautiful green eyes seemed unsettled, darting about, giving her a quizzical expression. Jack knew her well enough to know she was debating whether to say something more about the case. ‘Go on, what is it?’ he asked.
‘Oh, nothing, just that…’ A pause. ‘Just that, if he were unfit to plead, it would suit everybody, not just Smart.’
‘What do you mean?’ Then he guessed: ‘Dobkin?’
‘Yeah. He’s worried some big London firm will poach him.’
Jack scoffed. ‘So he ain’t that sick!’
‘How cynical, Mr Kowalski,’ she replied. ‘Dobkin can’t afford to lose this case.’
‘And if he’s unfit to give instructions,’ said Jack, ‘the court wouldn’t allow him to sack his legal team.’
‘You’ve just won a coconut.’
They both chuckled. It felt good. There was a time when Jack thought he would never laugh about anything again. Then he felt guilty. ‘Either way, I messed up.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lara replied.
‘If he was aware of his actions, I helped put a cold-blooded killer back on the street, and if he was mentally ill, I let down the client – I put a man who needed help into a situation where he killed his wife.’
Lara leaned across the table and took Jack’s hand, sending a charge of electricity up his spine, making him blush.
‘Don’t you think you’ve pulled and twisted this enough different ways by now?’
Jack let out a sigh.
Lara got up to leave. ‘You have to let it go, Jack.’ She pointed a finger at him. ‘Or you’re not going to be able to focus on anything else – like other cases.’
How he wished he could.
‘Call me when you’ve read Dixon, we’ll need a con.’
‘Sure,’ Jack replied, dreading the prospect of preparing and fighting two trials in two weeks.
‘Oh, and it’s in for a bail application tomorrow.’
‘What?’
Chapter 24
Three a.m. and Jack was awake. Accustomed to the simple chores of laying tables at Marek’s or playing the piano, his head was now crammed with Nowak, Dixon and Lara’s revelations about Timothy Smart. He climbed out of bed and sat down at the little IKEA desk that he’d squeezed into the flat. He turned on his laptop to watch the CCTV again. Anything to take his mind off the bail app he’d be making in a few hours. He’d already read the brief in Dixon several times. It seemed pretty straightforward. He couldn’t understand why Lara was concerned: an old man in a coma, blood and DNA at the scene, no explanation from Dixon and a great big hole next to the complainant. Jack thought the officer’s theory in interview was probably spot on, that Dixon thought he’d killed the old man, so was burying the body to buy himself some time. Unfortunately for Dixon, he’d been disturbed.
What if Jack got bail for him and he went to the hospital and finished the job? What if he threatened or attacked the elderly woman who’d agreed to be an ID witness? He slapped his forehead. ‘Get a grip,’ he muttered to himself, then pressed play.
The compilation started with Lauren Riley running out of the Hilton lobby and down Deansgate, from various cameras at different angles. Even from a grainy street camera, and at a distance, anyone could see she was a mess – especially a jury. Conversely, the footage of the pair going into the hotel showed them hand in hand, but no faces. It seemed incredible to Jack they’d only met an hour before. Was that what young people were like? He’d never had that luck, or confidence with the opposite sex.
The Ambro’s footage was more confused, with people everywhere. It went on for forty-five minutes. Lauren was out of shot a couple of times, lost in the crowd or in the toilets, but most of the time she could be seen propping up the bar. Jack surmised from the body language that various men had a go at chatting her up, only getting as far as buying her a drink. She certainly knew her way around, but that was a long way from making a false claim of rape.
The one sequence that raised questions was just before Lauren got talking to Nowak. Jack watched it over and over, freeze-framing at the relevant parts. A man arrived at the bar and then appeared to have a short conversation with Lauren, after which she went over to the VIP area, possibly spoke to a bouncer, who let her through, and then was seen with Nowak. Within half an hour, they left together. Jack wanted to know: what made her go over to Nowak? And who was the man, too old and scruffy to be a clubber? Then Jack noticed something: the man’s hands. Did he give Lauren something, or even take something out of her purse? He sent Statham an email asking for the section to be enhanced. He froze the footage at the clearest shot of the scruffy man and printed it. Who was he?
Jack checked his watch – time to get ready.
Tired and bleary-eyed, Jack headed down Shude Hill eating half a bagel with a slice of salami. He cut into the Printworks for a respite from a rain shower and tried to think through Dixon’s bail application, but his mind wouldn’t stick. The pressures of the next couple of weeks were consuming him. He had to keep it together.
As he walked down Deansgate, the clouds opened up for a ray of sunshine, reminding the city that spring had arrived. Deep in thought, he arrived at chambers. Too engrossed for old rituals, he forgot to touch his name on the board outside for luck. He went straight to his pigeonhole and checked for anything from Lara or Statham.
‘Morning, sir,’ said Bob.
Jack didn’t have the energy to argue with Bob about Dixon having been forced into his diary without any consultation – it was too late, anyway. He picked out a letter, which had already been opened. It had a Strangeways stamp.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Bob, pointing at the envelope. ‘We didn’t want you to see it, but Miss Dale said we aren’t allowed to censor counsel’s post, not under any circumstances.’
Bob’s uncharacteristic concern made Jack nervous. He read the letter:
But if you do that which is evil, be afraid; for he bears not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath on him that does evil.
Timothy Smart
Jack froze. What did it mean? Was it a threat? And why had Smart written to him, when they’d never even met?
Suddenly realizing the whole clerks’ room was watching, waiting for a reaction, Jack put the letter back in the envelope, his hands shaking, and slipped it into his breast pocket. He needed to be alone to think, but first he had the matter of Dixon’s application to deal with. He picked up his briefcase, swung his wig bag over his shoulder and made to leave.
‘Everything OK, sir?’
‘Fine, Bob, absolutely fine.’
Chapter 25
A crowd had gathered outside Court Seven. Jack could see Lara in conversation with Richard Hornby. On seeing Jack, he blanked him with the condescension that only another barrister understands.
Lara came over. ‘Richard’s got the prosecution brief.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Jack replied, doing his best to sound nonchalant. Then, burning with jealousy: ‘So that’s why you couldn’t brief him on this?’
‘You were out of circulation, Jack, if you remember?’ came the stinging reply. ‘And actually, Jammer asked for you.’
‘Jammer?’ Jack replied, now desperate to change the subject. ‘The key-worker
who’s putting up the surety?’
‘Yes. He’s a good guy and a great source of work. Come on, I’ll introduce you.’
Jammer was not what Jack expected; dressed in black jeans, a camouflage jacket and a pair of Converses, with long, swinging dreadlocks, he had a certain majesty about him. He was deep in conversation with a uniformed police officer.
‘Fraternizing with the enemy?’ joked Lara.
‘What, Khan?’ boomed Jammer in his deep Mancunian voice. ‘He wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
Not sure whether his old friend was complimenting him or not, the officer went over to discuss the application with prosecution counsel.
‘At least it’s not Baker,’ said Lara.
‘You know Adil, he likes to follow things through,’ replied Jammer. ‘He’s OK.’ He reached out to shake Jack’s hand. ‘Thanks for taking the case, Mr Kowalski. I’ve heard you can work miracles.’
Jack’s face reddened. ‘I don’t know about that. It’s a great thing you’re doing, offering your own money, and a place to stay.’
Jammer shrugged off the compliment. ‘If I’d had someone to help me back in the day, maybe I’d be a barrister by now.’ A broad grin spread across his face.
Jack liked him. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, Jammer. He’s got a string of previous, the evidence is strong and the trial is only next week, so I’m pretty sure the judge will knock us back.’
‘Do you know what prejudice is, Mr Kowalski?’ Jammer asked.
Taken aback by the question, he replied: ‘I think so. I’ve been on the wrong end of it often enough.’
‘Pre-judice. It means pre-judgment.’
Jack had never thought about the word in that way.
‘Don’t pre-judge this hearing, Mr Kowalski – or Gary Dixon – because then the outcome will fulfill your expectations. Go in with an unbiased mind.’
It was good advice. Jack could see why this man was able to change the course of so many young lives in Longsight.
‘Who’s the judge?’ Jack asked Lara as they went into court.
‘Beddingfield.’
‘Beddingfield!’
Her Honour was already on the bench.