by Peter Murphy
‘Yes, that’s right. At this precise moment, my firm represents them – well, two of them, anyway. I’ve known Caradog and Arianwen Prys-Jones for years. My wife and I were close friends of their parents, God rest them. Arianwen asked me to come to see her at the police station, just after she had been charged. Caradog is representing himself. He told me he will refuse to recognise the court, so what will happen with him, God only knows. But Arianwen is my client, as is the third defendant, Dafydd Prosser. I don’t know him really. He came to me through professional colleagues in North Wales who knew I was representing Arianwen. I would like to continue, but…’
‘They have already decided to move the trial out of Wales,’ Barratt said, ‘to the Old Bailey. Apparently they were afraid there might be too much local feeling in Wales, or that there was too much danger of public disorder and the like. Or perhaps they just couldn’t trust a Welsh jury to convict. In any case, the Bailey has it now.’
‘It would have been a huge headache in Wales, politically, in addition to everything else,’ Eifion said. ‘Anyone in any position of power in Wales would be glad to wash their hands of it.’
‘Is it too much of a headache for you too?’ Gareth asked.
‘No. It might have caused some resentment against us in certain quarters, but that wouldn’t have stopped me. We can’t back off just because the client’s cause is unpopular, can we? They couldn’t have kept it in North Wales – Caernarfon, Mold and so on, obviously. That would have been asking for trouble. But they could have moved it down to South Wales, Cardiff or Swansea, and if they had, I would have done it using my local counsel.’
He paused.
‘But in England, you know, with a London jury… I just think it would be in their best interests to have London solicitors and counsel. Of course, you are well-known in Wales yourself, Mr Morgan-Davies. You are fluent in Welsh, I understand?’
‘It’s my first language. Is there any conflict of interest between the two?’
Eifion shook his head. ‘Not for the solicitors, but we will need separate counsel.’
‘Wasn’t there a fourth suspect?’ Ben asked. ‘Another man?’
‘Yes. Trevor Hughes, Arianwen’s husband,’ Eifion replied. ‘He seems to have disappeared without trace. Arianwen and Dai Bach – that’s what they call Dafydd – both tell me they have no idea where he is, and I believe them. It’s possible the police may find him before trial, but we will just have to wait and see about that.’
‘Mr Morris tells me that the trial will not be before the spring of next year,’ Merlin said.
‘Yes. The prosecution has a lot of exhibits to submit for forensic testing, and they have to take a lot of witness statements. I was told that April or May is the earliest we can expect.’
‘That is good for us, in the sense that we can accommodate it,’ Merlin said. ‘My understanding, Mr Davis, is that you were suggesting Mr Morgan-Davies for Dafydd Prosser and Mr Schroeder for Mrs Hughes?’
‘That’s correct,’ Barratt replied. ‘I’m sorry, Gareth, but from what Eifion tells me, I’m not sure your man has much of a defence.’
‘They’re accused of trying to kill the Queen and Prince Charles,’ Gareth said. ‘I’d be very surprised if any of them has much of a defence.’
‘I’m told Dai Bach made highly incriminating statements to the police, including one in writing,’ Eifion added, ‘though, fair play to him, he does say that it was beaten out of him.’
‘It’s not the first time a defendant has alleged he was beaten up by the police,’ Gareth smiled. ‘There are even times when it is true. I’ve dealt with that one before.’
‘And by MI5, actually, in this case,’ Eifion said, ‘as well as the police. And he says there is medical evidence.’
‘Really?’ Gareth said thoughtfully. ‘Well, that ought to make it interesting.’
‘But even if we keep his statement out, they say they have a lot of circumstantial evidence against him. I don’t know what that amounts to, yet.’
Gareth nodded. ‘Well, we will just have to wait and see. I will need a junior.’
‘I was going to suggest Mr Clive Overton, sir,’ Merlin said. ‘Someone relatively junior would do for this, I think.’ He smiled. ‘But I am told there is a problem with that.’
‘The case has already been assigned – to Mr Justice Overton,’ Barratt said. ‘We don’t think it’s a good idea to have him appearing in front of his father, even as a junior.’
Gareth laughed out loud.
‘Miles Overton would have a heart attack if we even suggested it,’ he said. ‘Who else is there?’
‘I’ve got Mr Weston, sir,’ Merlin said.
‘Perfect,’ Gareth agreed.
‘I’m not sure about Arianwen, Mr Schroeder,’ Eifion said. ‘I’m told that her statement to the police protests her innocence, and the only evidence against her is that she was driving the car, accompanied by Mr Morgan-Davies’s client, when the police found the bomb. She says she had no idea what she was carrying. It’s early days, yet, obviously, but you may have some chance in her case.’
‘All right,’ Ben replied. ‘That gives me something to work with.’
‘So, where do I fit into all this?’ Jess asked with a smile.
‘Well, Miss Farrar,’ Eifion replied, ‘we are going to need your expertise too. When she was arrested, Arianwen had her son Harri with her in the car. He is four years old, so he was in a child’s seat in the back of the car.’
Ben took a sharp intake of breath.
‘She had her four-year-old son in the car while she was carrying the bomb?’ he asked.
Eifion nodded grimly.
‘I’m afraid so. Of course, the boy was taken to a foster home immediately, and he is being well looked after. But it’s a problem for her defence.’
‘You can say that again,’ Ben said.
Eifion smiled thinly.
‘I didn’t mean that only in the obvious sense. It presents us with another problem, as you will find when you see her. I’m afraid she is obsessed with seeing Harri, and with getting him back. I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she is not rational at the moment. She is heart-broken about being separated from him, and I don’t use the term lightly, Mr Schroeder. I’m not sure I knew what “heart-broken” meant before I saw her. But she is really heart-broken. She is almost out of her mind with grief. It’s difficult to get her to concentrate on the criminal case at all, and it worries me.’
Jess shook her head.
‘Well, obviously, getting him back is something we can’t even consider unless, and until, she gets a “not guilty” in the criminal case. Even then, the local authority may want to delay returning him until she has proved herself to be a fit parent, and if they think she really did put him in the same car as a bomb, it may not be easy to satisfy them. Remember, there’s no need for proof beyond reasonable doubt in child welfare cases. It’s just a question of what seems more likely, so she doesn’t have the same protection she does in the criminal case, and even if she is acquitted, getting Harri back won’t be automatic.’
‘I agree, Miss Farrar,’ Eifion replied. ‘But I believe it is essential to involve family counsel now, so that we can reassure her that we are not forgetting Harri, we are making sure nothing bad happens to him, and that we are waiting in the wings to apply to the court for him to be returned to her when the moment arrives. She is going to be a very difficult client, and we are going to have to support her, be patient with her. Mr Schroeder, I hope you agree with that strategy.’
‘Absolutely,’ Ben replied.
‘I will talk to Steven tomorrow, Miss Farrar,’ Merlin said, ‘and explain what we have discussed this evening.’
‘Thank you, Merlin.’
‘Well, there we are,’ Gareth said. ‘It would be helpful for us to have a conference with the clients as soon as po
ssible. Even though we have some time before trial, this is going to be a difficult case, and it’s going to take a lot of preparation. She is in Holloway, I imagine. Where is he?’
‘Brixton,’ Eifion replied.
‘I will work out a date for that with Merlin,’ Barratt said.
‘Good.’ Gareth looked at his watch. ‘Well, what do you say to a glass of champagne before you go?’
‘That would be very welcome,’ Barratt replied.
‘Right. Come on, both of you, and you can give Mr Justice Wesley your congratulations personally.’
23
Thursday 24 July 1969
‘Have you heard anything more about Harri? Are they going to let me see him?’
The words were spoken quietly but urgently, and they were the first she spoke as they entered the conference room in Holloway Prison.
‘He’s very well, Arianwen,’ Eifion assured her. ‘He is with a very good foster family, and we are doing our best to bring him to visit you. I don’t have any news today, but I have brought your family barrister, Jess Farrar, who is going to be working with us.’
Jess stepped forward and shook Arianwen’s hand.
‘Thank you,’ Arianwen said.
‘I’m going to do everything I can,’ Jess replied.
‘Arianwen, this is Barratt Davis, my friend who is a solicitor here in London. You remember I said last time we met, I thought it would be better to have a local solicitor and barrister?’
‘Yes. But you will still be involved, Eifion, won’t you? You understand my anxiety about Harri, and that means so much to me.’
‘Of course I will. I will be involved for as long as it all takes. But Mr Davis will be in charge of things for the trial.’
She shook his hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Davis.’
‘It’s my privilege,’ Barratt replied. ‘And please call me Barratt. This is Ben Schroeder, the barrister who will be representing you in the criminal trial.’
As he shook her hand, Ben took in the tall, gaunt figure. She must have lost weight since her arrest, he thought. She looked unnaturally thin, and her brown and white, ankle-length Indian cotton dress hung about her frame too loosely. Her long hair was untidy, as if it had been combed hurriedly and indifferently just before they arrived. But it was the eyes he noticed most. They looked haunted, as if she really were, as Eifion had said, heart-broken. But at the same time, behind the heartbreak, he saw just a flash of resolve and a sense of dignity that had not deserted her. She was still ready to fight. The eyes also had another effect on him, a far more personal one. For a moment he could not catch his breath, and he could not look away. By the time he did, he knew something had changed. In the space of a few seconds she had changed for him. She was not just another client. He felt an irrational determination, an intense desire to save her, whatever the cost. The feeling took him by surprise, and he could not immediately understand it.
They took their seats around the small table, crowded together in the small conference room with its harsh fluorescent lighting, with a watchful prison guard prowling up and down in the corridor outside, and peering in through the glass panel in the door from time to time to remind them of her presence.
‘We’ve received a copy of the statement under caution you made to the police,’ Ben said. He produced a copy of the statement from his briefcase and perused it slowly. ‘You say that you knew nothing about what was going on. Dafydd Prosser – Dai Bach – phoned you and asked you to drive him to Bangor. He told you a story about having to collect some personal belongings because he was going to stay with a friend. You drive him there, he picks up his suitcase, as you believed it was, from the garage. You drive him back to the square. But then your brother Caradog appears unexpectedly. You see what is really in the boot of your car, and you are arrested. Will that be the evidence you give if I call you at the trial?’
‘Yes. That’s the truth.’
Ben nodded.
‘Arianwen – may we use first names…?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Arianwen, I’m going to play devil’s advocate for a moment. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘I’m going to look at it from the prosecution’s point of view, because that is what you are going to hear when you are cross-examined.’
‘All right.’
‘The first question is this. This plan to make a bomb and place it in the Castle wasn’t hatched overnight, was it? It must have taken a considerable time. They had to decide that they were going to do it. That alone…do you see? Then, somehow, they had to work out how to actually make a bomb. They had no prior experience of doing anything like this. They needed a workshop, they needed the materials, and they needed assembly instructions. Then they had to decide how to get the bomb into the Castle at the right time, and put it somewhere they had some hope it would not be discovered.’
‘Yes.’
She was starting to cry.
‘I’m sorry. You must forgive me. I keep thinking about Harri.’
‘I understand,’ Ben said. ‘But we have to talk about your trial.’
‘I know. It’s just that I still can’t believe any of this is happening.’
She put her head down on the table. Jess reached across to take her hand.
‘Arianwen, we all want to help you get Harri back. That’s why we’re here. We are going to do whatever it takes. But we can’t get him back for you if you go to prison, so first we have to make sure that doesn’t happen. We have to make sure you are found not guilty. That’s why we have to talk about this now. I know it’s hard, but we do.’
‘I know. I will do my best.’
‘All right,’ Ben said. ‘Let us know if you need to take a break for a minute.’
‘Thank you.’
Ben allowed some time to pass. Eventually she lifted her head and returned her attention to him.
‘I was saying that it must have taken them quite some time to plan what they were going to do to disrupt the Investiture. You were close to all three men. Trevor most of all, of course. You were married to him, and living with him. But you were also close to your brother Caradog, and I imagine you saw quite a bit of Dai Bach. So the question the jury will have is…’
‘How could I not have known?’ she smiled through her tears.
‘Exactly.’
‘I ask myself that question every day.’
She stood and walked over to lean against the wall to the left of the door, away from the prying eyes of the prison officer.
‘Looking back now,’ she said, ‘I even question myself. How could I not know? But I didn’t. I’ve known Caradog all my life, and it doesn’t make any sense to me to think of him carrying a bomb which could kill or maim people. That’s not the Caradog I know. He is a gentle man, a kind and gentle man. If you knew him… it just doesn’t make sense. He lives in a world of his own, yes, but it’s a world of ideas, a world of books. He likes to keep himself to himself, and he likes to sit around reading, or thinking, or brooding. But violence? This kind of violence, especially, I just can’t picture in him. He is an intellectual, a dreamer, but he’s not an anarchist. It’s not possible. There are days when I am convinced it is all a bad dream, and I’m going to wake up and find that everything is normal again. I have to think that. It just doesn’t make any sense.’
‘He is a nationalist,’ Ben pointed out.
‘We are all nationalists,’ she replied, ‘me, Trevor, Caradog, Dai Bach. We vote Plaid Cymru and we work for the Party. We go to demonstrations. But those are just political activities. I know there are some people on the fringes of the Party who are capable of violence, but none of us ever had anything to do with them. Caradog in particular would have nothing to do with them. He had nothing but scorn for them.’
Ben thought for some time.
‘Well, s
omething led him to do what he did. Could anything have shifted for him? Did you see any change in him over the years, however slight it might have seemed at the time?’
‘If there was a change,’ she replied, ‘it would have been at the time of the flooding of the Tryweryn Valley. We fought the Government for years over that. I don’t know whether you remember. They flooded an entire valley and destroyed a village called Capel Celyn, just to provide more water for Liverpool. It wasn’t right. It was a huge injustice to Wales. We went to all the demos, wrote letter after letter to our MP, letters to the newspapers. We did everything we could. We held it up for a long time. But of course, it didn’t stop them in the end. Nothing ever does. I did sense a hardening in Caradog at that time. Our family owned land there, a house, you see. But I still can’t believe it’s come to this.’
She hesitated.
‘The Tryweryn Valley was where our family came from originally, you see, generations ago. Our great grandparents were the last in our immediate family to own land and live there. Their home was in Capel Celyn. So both Caradog and I had a particular attachment to the area, and it was very hard for us when we lost that fight. We had relatives who had to move when the fight was finally over. It’s possible that Caradog changed then, but to me, it just seemed that he stayed lost in his own private world even more than usual. Perhaps he was covering up the hurt, and didn’t know how to deal with it. Perhaps if he could have talked to me about it… I don’t know.’
There was silence for some time.
‘What about Dai Bach?’ Ben asked.
She laughed.
‘Dai Bach is totally different from Caradog. He’s a clever enough man. He is a chemistry teacher, after all. But he’s not an intellectual in the sense Caradog is. He’s not a philosopher. He admires those qualities in Caradog. He looks up to him, almost like an elder brother. Actually, it’s more than that. He is like Caradog’s puppy dog in a way, following him around, hanging on his every word. But still, he has his own life. He enjoys people; he’s a complete extrovert, and he can be very funny.’