‘They’ll haul me off what little is left of this case,’ she called to him. ‘It’s the same as a journalist, when a cop becomes the story then it’s time to change the story.’
‘If that happens, then these fuckers win. They can’t decide the narrative. They can’t get to choose who investigates what. Some angry teenager sitting wanking in his bedroom doesn’t get to decide who runs the world, he doesn’t get to have someone sacked just because a girl laughed at him or got the job he wanted.’
‘They’re keyboard warriors, that’s all. Impotent, angry little boys. Best ignored.’
‘Yeah maybe. Or kicked in the stones.’
She went silent for several minutes and he sat reading and shaking his head at the madness of it all. When he heard her sigh heavily, he looked up to see her staring at the laptop. When she spoke her voiced was laced with despair.
‘Well there’s certainly plenty of angry wee boys.’
‘What now?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Yes, I fucking do. Let me see.’
She leaned back and he walked over to look at the screen from behind her. He was immediately confused by what he saw.
‘I don’t understand. You don’t have a Twitter account.’
‘Well, I do now.’
‘I’m not sure I . . .’
‘Someone has set one up for me. Kind of them, huh?’
Her photograph was there. DI Rachel Narey as her handle. The clues were under the profile pic.
Detective Inspector for Police Scotland. Bitch. Slag. Liar. Manhater.
Joined December 2017.
‘What the hell is this?’
‘Someone has set up a fake account. Got my photograph from somewhere. And look, I’ve got over a thousand followers already. All men.’
‘Christ.’
‘No, he’s not one of them. Quite the opposite. I’ve made a few tweets. I’m sorry for trying to ruin William Broome’s life. I’m a liar and I hate men. I knew that bitch was lying but I didn’t care. That sort of thing. But most of the traffic is in the form of replies. Mainly threats.’
He tried to keep his voice calm. ‘What kind of threats?’
‘The actionable ones aren’t from real people. The ones saying I should die. Or should be raped. Or that I’d be raped and I’d like it. Or that I should have my tits cut off. Those ones are anonymous – just vile, macho bullshit nicknames they’ve dreamed up for themselves. They could possibly be traced but it would take a long time and a lot of work for not much return. The real ones, the ones that just call me a bitch – and oh, a lot of them call me a bitch – they’re not going to get prosecuted, maybe a warning at best but probably not even that.’
Winter didn’t want to but he read the tweets he could see on the screen, all directed @DIRachelNarey.
You should have your tongue cut out BITCH
I’m going to rape the fuck out of you!
Dont close ur eyes cos am wait to kill u
Hater! U should get sacked bitch
Hope u die slow and painful u fucking slag
You will get raped for real and no one will listen you LIAR
‘The standard of grammar among these fuckwits is appalling,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I blame the schools.’
‘Don’t joke about this, Rach. I’m not finding it funny.’
‘You think I am? Click on the banner photograph.’
He reached past her and did so. The picture expanded from a slightly blurred light-brown to full size. It was her. Except it wasn’t. ‘She’ was naked, legs wide apart, staring at the camera and smiling. Her head photoshopped onto some porn star’s body.
‘I’m going to kill someone.’
‘Not yet,’ she told him ‘There’s also this . . .’
She moved the mouse down, scrolling past tweet after tweet until she found the one she was looking for.
I’m going to rape and kill your baby
He said nothing but she heard his breathing stop. The lack of shouting scared her, betraying the true depth of his rage.
He put both hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently, massaging her silently for a full minute. Then he let go and she could hear him turn and walk away.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To hug my daughter.’
CHAPTER 15
Three of them sat in a silent office, waiting for the chair behind the desk to be filled. Three overgrown schoolkids anxious to discover which of them was in most trouble. They might as well have hung a sign reading Headmaster’s Study on the door.
Narey. Addison. Detective Superintendent Helen Connarty, head of the National Rape Task Force. All awaiting the imminent arrival of Deputy Chief Constable James McInally at his office in headquarters at Tulliallan.
Addison was fiddling with his mobile, unconcerned with his fate or pretending to be. The two women were more obviously apprehensive. Narey was expecting the worst.
She’d messed up. The case had gone to court and was going to be shown not to have been fit for purpose. That would all come down on her. Leah didn’t testify. That had been her job and she couldn’t finish it. McInally was unlikely to be happy.
She knew that Helen Connarty was likely to be there hoping to take what was left of the Broome case over to the NRTF. Connarty came with a big reputation and was said to be a formidable operator. Narey had wanted to meet her for a good while but this wasn’t the way she’d envisaged it.
The door opened and McInally was halfway to his desk before they’d fully realised he was there. His opening sentence seemed to have begun on the other side of the door and all pleasantries were finished with by the time he sank into his chair.
‘. . . late but there are too many fires needing to be put out for me to be anywhere on time today. Okay let’s get on with this and try to clear this shit up so we can all get some real work done.’
Most officers that got anywhere near McInally’s rank were politicians, but he’d worked his way up from the beat without ever forgetting its language or where he came from. He was one of three deputy chiefs and he oversaw crime and operational support. He’d not only call a spade a fucking shovel but he’d happily hit you over the head with it too. With his shaved head and lean features, he was an intimidating prospect.
‘The Fiscal’s Office is thoroughly pissed off with us. Your Mr Whittle has been complaining about our prep. The press think we’re idiots. And there are people in offices above mine who might just agree with them. Can someone tell me they’re wrong?’
Narey began to speak but McInally cut across her.
‘Not you, Inspector. Not yet anyway. I want to hear what your colleagues think first.’
She bit her tongue, nodded and waited for judgement to be pronounced. Addison stepped into the breach first.
‘We could have done better. No one’s arguing otherwise. But everything was done in good faith and professionally. Broome wriggled and his snake of a lawyer got him off the hook. It’s not what we’d hoped for but we regroup and figure out another way to get Broome. The will is certainly there in the Major Investigation Team to put him away.
‘Sir, the bottom line for me is that if DI Narey couldn’t get Watt to testify, then I don’t think anyone could. And I’d still like her to be leading any investigation going forward.’
Narey thanked Addison internally but saw McInally looking back at the DCI blankly, not convinced and wanting more. He was a hard man to please.
‘Helen?’
The task force chief cleared her throat. ‘First of all, we’d like to have been more involved in this from the start, not just now when things have fallen apart. We have specific knowledge and experience that could have been put to good use here.’
Narey might have argued but for knowing Connarty was right.
‘I don’t know Detective Inspector Narey personally but I’m very much aware of her and I’ve heard nothing but praise for her work. Clearly the court case was a disappointment and we had bee
n hoping to see some action on the photographs that were discovered. We still are. They have a lot of potential for us.’
‘Had.’ McInally bared his teeth. ‘Those photographs are off the table and there’s no real prospect of them returning.’
‘Sir—’ Addison and Connarty started together.
‘No. The judge was clear. Whether we like it or not, Broome has got the photos back and we better make damn sure every copy is disposed of. The chief has made it clear he’s embarrassed and angry about this. He won’t be bitten by it twice.’
‘Sir,’ Addison persisted. ‘Broome may have been responsible for—’
‘Derek, we don’t know that he was responsible for anything. He took photographs. That’s all we know. And as we no longer have those, the matter is concluded anyway.’
‘Then what’s the point of this meeting? Sir.’
Narey willed her boss to shut it. There was no point in him being a white knight only for the deputy chief to ram his lance up his arse.
‘The point, Chief Inspector,’ McInally leaned forward and stepped on Addison’s rank like it was a bug, ‘is to establish whether anything can be salvaged from this clusterfuck and what disciplinary action, if any, is required. Is that okay with you?’
‘Yes, sir. Although I don’t think there’s any need for disciplinary—’
‘Fucksake Derek, any chance you can stop digging a hole for yourself? That’s my job.’
‘Sir.’
McInally shook his head at Addison before swinging it round towards Narey. He studied her just long enough to give her the fear.
‘Inspector, this whole mess has become an arse kicking contest and you’re at the end of the line. I’ve been briefed on the threats you’ve received – and I’m genuinely sorry and angry about those – but I have to regard it entirely separately from the issues with the Broome case. You’ll have to take your lumps on that.’
‘Understood, sir.’
‘Good, because you fucked up. As Helen rightly says, your case record is excellent and that’s what’s saving your arse now. But you cannot go back into court with everything hanging on the testimony of someone who you’re not certain will actually turn up and go through with it.’
‘Leah Watt had to—’
McInally held up a hand. ‘I’m not saying I’ve got the first clue what she went through or what it took for her even to get as far as she did but I am saying none of that matters. All that matters is whether we are sure she will deliver when it comes to it. And we got that wrong.’
‘Yes, sir. And I’m sorry for the mess it caused.’
He waved the apology away. ‘Just get it right next time. Make sure you learn from it. What we need to sort is what, if anything, we can do now. I’m aware that you all came in here ready to argue your case for going on with Broome but I’m not sure any of you will be winning that argument.’
‘We’re giving up on Broome?’ Narey blurted it out.
McInally sighed loudly. ‘We’re not giving up on him, Inspector. But we need to have something else to work with. Those photographs, whatever they were, are off the table. If you want to build a case against Broome then you have to go back to square one. You can’t use the photographs and you can’t use Leah Watt. And in that scenario, I suggest you need to show you have something concrete to justify spending time on him at all. God knows we have enough to deal with without chasing causes we can’t win.
‘Sir, there is a potentially massive case here. Each of the women photographed could represent—’
‘Inspector, as I suggested to DCI Addison, the key word there is potential. Right now, we have nothing. We don’t know that Broome has done anything other than take photographs. Yes, we could show that he’s followed these women and yes, that could constitute stalking but that’s not enough for me to allocate the hours it would need. And we don’t have the photographs, anything obtained through them will be thrown out by a judge, so we have nothing to work with. He’s already embarrassed the force once with no little help from us and I’m in no hurry to see him do it again. Any case that is initiated against him will need to come with a cast-iron guarantee of conviction. Frankly, I do not see where that is coming from.’
Narey was ready to pitch in again but Addison silenced her with one look. McInally saw it and approved.
‘Okay, I’m going to leave you three here to discuss it for a while as I’ve got more shit I need to deal with. If you can find a way we can all live with then let me know what you’ve decided. The leash on this is a very short one if there’s no prospect of a result. And remember, this is my office, don’t steal anything and don’t make a mess.’
When McInally left, Connarty had seniority and she assumed it immediately.
‘Okay, let me be honest here. Not very much of this makes me happy. Far from it. I came in here wanting the Broome case but, to be honest, after what McInally said . . .’
She shook her head and sighed, falling back in her chair. ‘Now it suits me more to let you have it, Rachel. Politically, this could create problems for me that I really don’t need. We’ve been warned off from this and while my instinct is to tell them to shove it and throw everything at Broome, I just can’t.
‘I’ve got the whole task force to think of, not just this case. I need the sympathy of courts and sheriffs and judges in ways that you don’t. I simply can’t afford to piss them off. You can stick two fingers up to them because if you come into court with enough evidence then it won’t matter a damn if they’re on your side or not. Evidence is only half the battle for us. We need them to believe it too.
‘So, you run with it. McInally isn’t going to let you run far or long unless you produce so you better make it happen quickly. If you need anything, then ask. If I’m at arms’ length, then I’m protected and the task force is protected. Keep me in the loop and I’ll give what I can.’
‘Okay, that suits me. I want it.’
‘Wanting it is all very well,’ Addison chipped in. ‘But it’s not enough. Without the photographs your biggest lead is in the bin. Before we leave this room, we need a plan. And we’re going to have to get creative.’
CHAPTER 16
Narey’s phone rang as she sat at her desk in Stewart Street, Giannandrea’s name showing up on her screen.
‘Yes, Rico?’
‘Boss, you need to take a look on Twitter. It’s not good news.’
‘Oh Christ, what are they saying now?’
‘It’s not you, not this time. All due respect, it’s worse. Leah Watt’s been publicly named as Broome’s accuser.’
‘Shit! I’ll call you back.’
She scrambled to bring up Twitter on her laptop, about to type Leah’s name into the search function when she saw that she didn’t have to. #LeahWatt was trending.
She felt sick to her stomach.
Lying bitch who made up story about William Broome is #LeahWatt
Cry wolf, cry rape. Broome liar is called #LeahWatt. Let her know she’s a #liar
Send Leah Watt to jail for lying in court #LeahWatt #bitch #liar
Leah Watt is the Broome case liar. Bound to get raped for real now
Narey picked up her phone and called Leah. As it rang, her eyes couldn’t help but follow more tweets.
See they’ve named the bitch that took Broome to court. Leah Watt. Lying Twat more like
Anyone know this lying cow Leah Watt? She needs to feel the burn #liar #LeahWatt
The call rang and rang.
The Glasgow rape liar is called Leah Watt. Spread the word
No one will believe #LeahWatt when she gets raped. That’s called karma bitch
It went to voicemail.
‘Leah, it’s Rachel. Give me a call back when you can. Don’t shut me out, please. I’m here for you.’
They’d named her. The bastards had actually named her.
It was a gross violation of the law and her right to anonymity. If it had been done by a newspaper or a TV channel then someone would already
have been charged with contempt of court and an editor or reporter heading for jail. Instead it had been done by some malevolent shit who she knew might not be traced.
She called Giannandrea back.
‘I want whoever did this, Rico. Are we on it?’
‘I’ve already spoken to Grant Whittle at the Fiscal’s Office, telling him we want this shut down and to get on to Twitter with everything he’s got. He’s as angry about this as we are.’
‘Oh, I seriously fucking doubt that.’
‘I’ve been on to the techs. They’re able to separate out tweets and are working their way back to find the first offender. The problem is that it’s already spread fast and it’s spread far and wide. It’s growing as quickly as they can cut its legs away.’
‘Rico, every person in Scotland that retweets that or posts a tweet with Leah’s name in it is breaking the law. And that’s even before we get to the threats.’
‘Yes, boss, but with all respect, you know we’re not going to get anyone into court for retweeting it. The best we can hope for is to identify the initial culprit and hammer them. If they’re real and if we can find them.’
As he was speaking, she’d refreshed the #LeahWatt feed. Three tweets down, there was a post that took her breath away.
Giannandrea heard the noise she made.
‘What’s up?’
‘Someone’s tweeted a photograph of Leah. I think they might have ripped it from her Facebook page.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Those shitty little bastards. Get back on to Whittle. Now. I want these taken down. I want every tweet deleted. No excuses. And I don’t care what time it is in America if that’s where the HQ is. Wake up whoever needs to be wakened and get this done.’
She heard the unspoken irritation in Rico’s pause before he answered.
‘I’ll make sure everything that can be done, is done. But it’s already elsewhere on the internet, on places we won’t be able to shut down. If they’re outside Scotland, they’re not breaking any laws and we can do next to nothing about it.’
She sighed heavily. ‘I know, Rico. I know.’
The Photographer Page 8