The Heirs of Owain Glyndwr

by Peter Murphy

  ‘The Crown’s case, you may think, turns on the argument that she knew all three men well, and well enough that she must have known what they were planning – that it is, from a practical point of view, impossible that she could not have known after such close contact with them over such a long period of time. It is for you to say where the truth lies, but I remind you that the test is not what she must have known, but what she did know. You must bear in mind, as Mr Schroeder reminded you, that her husband is absent from this trial, and that Mr Schroeder has not had the opportunity to cross-examine him about what his wife knew or did not know. That is a point to consider, but I remind you that you may not speculate about evidence that has not been given. You must try the case on the basis of the evidence you do have. The Crown do not suggest that she did anything other than carry the bomb to further the goals of the conspiracy. It is not suggested that she participated in any way in the planning, or in building the device.

  ‘You have heard evidence, not only from Mrs Hughes herself, but from a number of prosecution witnesses, about her distress, particularly about being parted from her son. You cannot, of course, base your verdict on any sympathy for her about that, assuming that you have any such sympathy. But you may take her distress – which was, you may think, quite obvious when she gave evidence – into account; and you may take into account the feelings she has about her son when you ask yourselves whether she would have allowed herself to become mixed up in this plot, or whether, as she herself told you, she would have gone to the police herself if she had known of it. The Crown say that the fact that Harri was in the car when she drove from Bangor with the bomb in her boot is evidence of her fanatical devotion to the conspiracy. But you must remember also Mr Schroeder’s argument that it could equally well show that she did not know what was going on. He suggests to you that no woman would expose her son to a risk of being blown up, however slight that risk might have been.

  ‘As in the case of the other two defendants, you must not be prejudiced against her because of her nationalist views and, as in the case of her brother, you must not be prejudiced because of the way she expressed herself in court – in her case when, during her evidence, she referred to the Prince of Wales as “Charles Windsor”. That may have been a deliberately slighting or insulting remark, or simply one made in the heat of the moment in the course of what was certainly a very heated exchange during Mr Roberts’ cross-examination. But, members of the jury, it has nothing to do with the evidence in her case. The only question for you is whether you are satisfied beyond reasonable doubt that her act of driving the car in the early morning of 1 July was a knowing act of participation in the conspiracy, or whether it may be that she did so not knowing what it was she was carrying.

  ‘Members of the jury, I am not going to send you out this afternoon. I know that you may be out for some time, so we will start fresh at 10.30 tomorrow morning. We are adjourned for the day.’

  69

  Friday 15 May 1970

  The jury retired to begin work the next morning just after 10.30 without undue ceremony. Ben made his way down to the cells to see Arianwen, but the tension made it impossible for either of them to say anything meaningful, and before long he left Barratt and Eifion to wait near the court for news, and returned to the Bar Mess. He found Gareth sitting in an armchair with a cup of coffee, reading The Times. He smiled.

  ‘You look very calm. Where’s Donald?’

  ‘He went for a prowl around somewhere,’ Gareth replied. ‘He couldn’t sit still for very long.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can,’ Ben said. ‘Does it ever get any easier waiting for juries?’

  ‘Not in the 20-plus years I’ve been doing this job,’ Gareth replied. ‘Mind you, it’s not too bad when you have a client like Dai Bach, who’s going down like a lead balloon. Not much drama in his case, I’m afraid, or in Caradog’s. But they may be out for some time with your girl. I think she has a shot. Your closing speech was very persuasive and much as I hate to admit it, I thought Overton treated her very fairly in the summing-up.’

  ‘Too fairly,’ Ben said, seating himself in the armchair next to Gareth’s. ‘I’m not sure he’s left me anywhere to go on appeal if she goes down.’

  ‘I’m not sure he has. I have to say, I have been quite impressed with Miles in this case. After all the years I’ve known him as one of the most combative and opinionated Silks in the business, he seems to have become the model judge. Perhaps he is behaving himself because he’s in the public eye. Perhaps he will show his true colours when he has to buckle down to the everyday business of the Queen’s Bench Division.’

  ‘How is Bernard enjoying life on the bench? Do you hear from him? I’ve hardly seen him since he started. Harriet was in front of him last week on a short matter and she said he was his usual formal self, very business-like.’

  ‘He is thoroughly enjoying himself. We have been in touch about chambers matters, my taking over as Head of Chambers and so on, and the impression I get is that he’s in his element.’

  ‘Well, at least standards will be maintained at the Bar with Bernard on the bench,’ Ben grinned. ‘Woe betide anyone who appears in his court with wrinkled bands or his waistcoat unbuttoned. Can I get you some more coffee?’

  Gareth shook his head. ‘No thanks. It’s ghastly stuff, isn’t it? I don’t know why I drink it – to pass the time, I suppose. Let’s hope we’re not here too long.’

  Leaving Gareth to The Times, Ben poured himself a strong coffee and returned to sit and wait. Members of the Bar involved in other cases came and went, and he chatted to one or two, but most of the morning was spent sitting in the armchair, trying without much success to concentrate on an article about the reform of the criminal law which he had optimistically brought with him. Lunch time brought some relief, the chance to enjoy the hubbub of the Mess, to hear tales of what was going on in other courts. But when 2 o’clock came, the Mess emptied again and they were left alone with the silence.

  The worst time was at about 5 o’clock, when the courts had risen for the day. The barristers in other cases had returned to chambers; the building was deserted; and the cleaners wandered dispiritedly through the rooms, clearing away the coffee cups and gathering up discarded newspapers, trailing humming vacuum cleaners behind them, and circling the chairs where they sat with an unspoken resentment about having to clean around them, so that they felt like intruders in their own Bar Mess. At 6 o’clock, Geoffrey the usher entered and disrupted the crushing silence by asking them to return to court.

  ‘Mr Roberts,’ the judge said. ‘I have been told that the jury has reached a verdict in the case of two of the three defendants, but not the third. Unless there is any objection, I propose to take the two verdicts now, and then allow the jury further time to deliberate about the remaining defendant.’

  Evan looked along counsel’s row and saw no reaction.

  ‘My Lord, I do not think anyone would seek to persuade your Lordship otherwise.’

  ‘If any of the defendants is convicted,’ the judge continued, ‘I propose to sentence this evening.’

  Evan looked along the row again. This time, Gareth stood slowly.

  ‘My Lord, I can’t object to that, of course,’ he replied. ‘But I do invite your Lordship to consider whether it might be better to adjourn until tomorrow morning. Inevitably, a verdict of guilty in the case of any defendant will be a stressful and emotional moment, not only for the defendant, but also for counsel and solicitors. It may be that a short adjournment would allow both counsel and your Lordship some time for reflection about mitigation and sentence.’

  ‘I don’t think I need any time for reflection,’ Mr Justice Overton replied. ‘I have had plenty of time for that during the trial, and I imagine that counsel have had ample opportunity during this long afternoon.’

  ‘As your Lordship pleases,’ Gareth replied. He resumed his seat, and turned to Ben. ‘I take
back all the nice things I said about him,’ he whispered.

  ‘I didn’t think they were all that nice,’ Ben whispered back.

  At a nod from the judge, the clerk of court stood and asked the defendants to stand.

  ‘Members of the jury, who shall speak as your foreman?’

  The foreman of the jury stood. He was a precise-looking man, who had worn a pinstriped suit and a tie throughout the trial, and had taken copious notes of the evidence. In everyday life he was a high-ranking executive of a City bank.

  ‘I am the foreman, my Lord.’

  ‘Members of the jury, in the case of Caradog Prys-Jones, has the jury reached a verdict on which you all agreed?’

  ‘We have, my Lord.’

  ‘Do you find Caradog Prys-Jones guilty or not guilty of conspiracy to cause explosions?’

  ‘We find the defendant guilty.’

  ‘You find the defendant Caradog Prys-Jones guilty, and is that the verdict of you all?’

  ‘It is, my Lord.’

  ‘Members of the jury, in the case of Dafydd Prosser, has the jury reached a verdict on which you all agreed?’

  ‘We have, my Lord.’

  ‘Do you find Dafydd Prosser guilty or not guilty of conspiracy to cause explosions?’

  ‘We find the defendant guilty.’

  ‘You find the defendant Dafydd Prosser guilty, and is that the verdict of you all?’

  ‘It is, my Lord.’

  ‘Members of the jury, in the case of Arianwen Hughes, has the jury reached a verdict on which you all agreed?’

  The foreman coughed.

  ‘No, my Lord.’

  There was a silence. After some time, the judge nodded.

  ‘Then, please retire again, members of the jury, and continue your deliberations as to Mrs Hughes.’

  When the jury had left, he added: ‘I will remand Caradog Prys-Jones and Dafydd Prosser in custody for sentence.’

  As the judge left the bench, Ben turned around to see all three defendants sitting, pale and motionless, in the dock.

  70

  The broken silence of the cleaners had now been replaced by the relentless silence of the night. The court was a daytime place, and at night its empty rooms seemed hostile and forbidding. The lights had been dimmed automatically at 8 o’clock by some central timing system over which those who remained in the building had no control. The portraits and certificates on the walls were reduced to ghostly shadows; even reading was a strain. Gareth and Donald were huddled in a corner, making spasmodic notes for a plea in mitigation which would be virtually devoid of mitigation.

  Ben sat alone, refusing to think about mitigation, focusing only on the hopes raised by the fact that the jury had not reached a verdict. Arianwen’s case was not straightforward. There was no way to tell what was troubling them. There was no way to tell whether they were divided and, if so, what the numbers were on either side. He had given them something to think about, but would it amount to reasonable doubt? And what if they failed to reach a verdict? It was certain that the prosecution would seek a retrial. But at least it would buy Arianwen further time, and perhaps in that time they would find Trevor Hughes. These thoughts, and others, circled through his mind as if on an endlessly revolving tape. The usher returned to fetch them just after 10 o’clock.

  The late night finish had not deterred the public and the press at all, and the court was still packed. There was a nervous hush, as though all those present in the courtroom were holding their breath together in a concerted effort to cope with the stress of waiting. Of the three defendants, only Arianwen had been brought up to court. Ben smiled as encouragingly as he could, but she stared blankly ahead of her.

  ‘Members of the jury,’ the clerk asked, ‘in the case of Arianwen Hughes, has the jury reached a verdict on which you all agreed?’

  The foreman turned to the judge.

  ‘We have, my Lord.’

  ‘Members of the jury, do you find Arianwen Hughes guilty or not guilty of conspiracy to cause explosions?’

  ‘We find the defendant guilty.’

  ‘You find the defendant Arianwen Hughes guilty, and is that the verdict of you all?’

  ‘It is, my Lord. But if we may…?’

  ‘Yes?’ the judge asked.

  ‘If we may, we would like to ask for some clemency in her case.’

  Mr Justice Overton nodded. ‘Thank you, members of the jury.’

  Ben felt as if the courtroom had gone dark before his eyes, and he held on to the hard surface of counsel’s row in front of him for support. He heard a whisper of condolence from Gareth, and a barely suppressed oath from Barratt behind him. But his concentration was on keeping his composure. He heard nothing from the dock, and when he eventually turned towards her, he saw the same steady stare ahead.

  71

  ‘Let the other defendants be brought up,’ Mr Justice Overton said.

  Ben was not conscious of their arrival until he felt Gareth rise to his feet next to him. Slowly, his eyes readjusted to the light of the courtroom, and he began to regain his bearings.

  ‘My Lord, there is little to say by way of mitigation in the light of the jury’s verdict, and what little there is, I think I can say quite shortly both on behalf of Dafydd Prosser and, if your Lordship will allow, on behalf of Caradog Prys-Jones. Both men have been convicted of a dreadful crime, which could have had the most horrendous consequences. There can be no possible mitigation for that. At the same time, it is a tragic case, because these are young men of considerable intelligence and ability, who might have gone on to great things on behalf of Wales if they had not chosen this destructive path. I say only three things more.

  ‘Firstly, they did what they did, not for any personal gain or advantage, but in pursuit of personal ideals – misguided ideals, certainly – but ideals nonetheless. Those beliefs are sincerely held and they run deep, and underlying them is a desire for freedom and justice – defined, of course, in their own flawed terms, and taking insufficient account of the freedoms of others – but beliefs in freedom and justice nonetheless.

  ‘Secondly, they are both young men, whose immaturity and inexperience of life outside North Wales may have made them more susceptible to the beliefs they held than others might have been. Recognising as I do that your Lordship must sentence these young men to a long term of imprisonment, I ask that the sentence be such as to give them some hope that they may eventually re-emerge into the world, rehabilitated and with the opportunity to use their undoubted talents in a constructive way, for the benefit of society.

  ‘Thirdly, I urge your Lordship to take account of the absence of Trevor Hughes. The Crown has said that Caradog Prys-Jones was the intellectual leader of the conspiracy, and has defined the roles of all three conspirators from that starting point, with that assumption in mind. But in my submission, there is no basis for any certainty about that assumption. Your Lordship does not know, there is no evidence, about the role played by Trevor Hughes, and your Lordship cannot exclude the possibility that Hughes played a leading role and influenced the others to follow him, at least to some extent. Until Trevor Hughes is arrested and brought before a court, no one will know the full truth about what happened during those early months of 1969, or on the morning of 1 July itself.

  ‘In conclusion, I urge your Lordship to show the defendants that justice administered in England, while necessarily severe in a case such as this, may still be tempered by a degree of mercy.’

  Ben stood in his turn.

  ‘My Lord, I am bound to accept the jury’s verdict, and that, of course, means that I must accept that they did not find Mrs Hughes’ evidence to be persuasive. Therefore, like my learned friend Mr Morgan-Davies, I must also accept that there is, and can be, no mitigation for what she did, in itself. But I respectfully adopt the observations made by my learned friend, which apply in equal measur
e to Arianwen Hughes. I ask your Lordship to reflect in particular that we will never know what difference the absence of Trevor Hughes may have had on this trial. Your Lordship has no way of knowing exactly what part he may have played in the events of the early morning of 1 July, and no way of knowing exactly what role he played in his wife’s life that brought her to the situation in which she finds herself today.

  ‘But it is not unreasonable to assume that his role in her life was a major one. There is no indication in her past record, or in the evidence she gave, that she would behave as I must accept she did. She is a musician, a teacher, a woman dedicated to her culture and her language. She does not share the harder-line view of nationalism which may appeal to others. There is no reason why your Lordship cannot accept her evidence on that score. She wishes for no political separation from England, she wishes for no borders, passports, or other trappings of a nominal independence. She is a woman whose Welsh identity is expressed through her language and her music.

  ‘I remind your Lordship that the prosecution has never contended that she did anything more than transport the bomb. She was not involved in planning any part of the operation; she was not involved in building the bomb; she did not go to Ireland; she did nothing except that one journey to Bangor and back to Caernarfon, and she did not even do that on her own initiative, but because she was asked to do so. Your Lordship would be entitled to say that, if Trevor Hughes had been here, and we had heard from him, it is likely that your Lordship would be sentencing Arianwen Hughes on a very different basis, a basis which would reflect the influence her husband must have had on her life.

  ‘As my learned friend said of the other defendants, there is no suggestion that they acted for any personal gain or advantage. Indeed, in the case of Arianwen Hughes, what she did could only cause her huge losses, and the most terrible loss is that she will be unable to bring up her son while he is young. She has lost the chance of seeing him grow up; of passing on to him her love of music and of her language; of seeing him emerge into the boy who will soon approach manhood. I submit that it was obvious to everyone in court that her grief over the loss of her son is genuine and that it is a devastating loss. She must feel that the cruel prediction made by DS Scripps during her interview is coming to pass.