Judge Walden

by Peter Murphy

  ‘Deborah, did you ever meet Monica?’ Aubrey asks gently.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tell the jury, please, when and how you discovered that Mr Findlay-Smyth was already married when he wooed you, proposed to you, and went through that ceremony of marriage with you at Holy Trinity Brompton.’

  ‘I found out about six months ago, when two police officers came round to the flat one evening, unannounced, and asked him to accompany them to the police station for questioning. Actually, I didn’t really find out even then. They were very vague about what they wanted, and it was only after he’d been charged that I really found out that I wasn’t ever married as far as the law was concerned. So there we were, suddenly cut adrift: me and my daughter.’

  ‘Was one of those officers DI Bairstow, who is in court this morning?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Deborah, this may be an obvious question: but if you had known, in September 2012, that Mr Findlay-Smyth was already married, would you have gone through a ceremony of marriage with him?’

  ‘No. I would not.’

  Aubrey consults his notes again. ‘I think that’s all I have… Oh, perhaps one last question. Did Mr Findlay-Smyth ever tell you, either before the marriage ceremony or at any later time, that he had a religious belief according to which polygamous marriage was acceptable?’

  ‘No. He did not. He never told me he had a religious belief of any kind.’

  ‘Thank you, Deborah. Please wait there. There will be some further questions for you.’

  ‘We had a really nice reception,’ she adds, again as if speaking to herself, ‘at my uncle’s golf club. It cost my dad a fortune. I wore a small blue patch on the inside of my dress; and I’d even borrowed my Mum’s gold bracelet. Much good it did me.’

  Cathy is on her feet in a flash.

  ‘Deborah, how long after your marriage to Mr Findlay-Smyth was your daughter Charlotte born?’

  She looks down. ‘About six months.’

  Aubrey stands. ‘Your Honour, I don’t know what the relevance of that is said to be.’

  ‘If my learned friend had read my defence statement,’ Cathy replies at once, with a touch of attitude, ‘he would know exactly why it’s relevant. But if he follows my next few questions all will become clear.’

  ‘I’ve read my learned friend’s defence statement,’ Aubrey insists. ‘I’m aware of the allegation of duress. But the Crown say that duress can provide no defence to a charge of bigamy.’

  ‘That’s not correct,’ Cathy replies. ‘But your Honour should hear the evidence before we address that question, so that we don’t deal with it in a vacuum.’

  I nod. ‘All right, Miss Writtle. But let’s get to the point as quickly as we can, shall we?’

  ‘I always try, your Honour. But it will be easier if my learned friend reads my defence statement and lets me get on with it.’

  ‘I have read the defence statement,’ Aubrey replies, ‘as I said before. And while I’m on my feet, I would be grateful if my learned friend would not refer to a “marriage” between this witness and the defendant, because there wasn’t one.’

  He sounds a bit stung by Cathy’s insinuation that he hasn’t read his brief. But he would be well advised to steer clear of getting into a slanging match with Cathy. It’s not his style: as between these two there’s only one likely winner in that kind of fight. Besides, thanks to the nameless draftsman of section 57, she’s doing no more than repeating the language of the indictment. But I don’t want this kind of squabbling going on in front of a vulnerable witness. I see Cathy’s finger playing with the nuclear button, and decide to head it off.

  ‘I think the jury understand that point, Mr Brooks,’ I reply. ‘Let’s move on, shall we?’

  Cathy shoots me a quick, chagrined grin that suggests I’ve spoiled her fun.

  ‘Does it follow from your last answer, Deborah,’ she asks, ‘that you were about three months pregnant with Charlotte when you married Mr Findlay-Smyth?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, you had to get married: would that be fair?’

  ‘I didn’t have to. I chose to: and I thought he chose to. He asked me to marry him, knowing that I was pregnant.’

  ‘Well, let me ask you about that,’ Cathy continues. ‘You say you didn’t have to. But what about Mr Findlay-Smyth? Did he have to?’

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean,’ the witness protests.

  ‘Oh, I think you do, Deborah,’ Cathy says. Aubrey is back on his feet in a flash.

  ‘If my learned friend has a question, your Honour, perhaps she would ask it rather than making comments to the witness.’

  I see Cathy about to argue back, but this time, Aubrey is right. I hold up a hand.

  ‘Ask a question, Miss Writtle.’

  ‘Yes, your Honour. Deborah, you described your father as a “businessman”. What kind of business is he in?’

  ‘Again, your Honour,’ Aubrey protests, ‘relevance?’

  This time, Cathy opens a file, takes out a copy of her defence statement and slides it across the bench to Audrey. ‘It’s all in here,’ she replies. The jury have a quick chuckle to themselves.

  ‘Enough, Miss Writtle,’ I say. ‘Let’s get to the point, shall we?’

  ‘Yes, your Honour. Deborah, among other things, your father is in the business of loaning money to people, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he is. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘But unlike Mr Findlay-Smyth, he’s not a banker, is he?’

  ‘He doesn’t work for a bank, no.’

  ‘Would it be fair to describe him as a loan shark?’

  ‘No. He lends money, but it’s all above board.’

  ‘In fact, he loans money to people such as gamblers and drug addicts who want to feed their habit: isn’t that right?’

  She hesitates. ‘I’ve never been involved with my father’s business.’

  Cathy holds up a hand. ‘I’m not suggesting for a moment that you have. But your brother Trevor has, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Trevor works with my dad sometimes, yes.’

  ‘Yes. And was there an occasion when your father and Trevor were tried together at the Old Bailey for blackmail and causing grievous bodily harm? Were they both convicted and sentenced to four years imprisonment?’

  Aubrey rises, uncertainly. ‘Your Honour, these men are not here to defend themselves. It’s hardly fair for my learned friend to attack their character.’ But it’s said without conviction. He has read Cathy’s defence statement, of course, as have I, and she’s entitled to the evidence.

  ‘If they wish to defend themselves,’ Cathy replies, ‘I’m sure my learned friend will call them as witnesses. If so, I will have a few questions for them myself.’

  ‘The question is quite proper,’ I rule. ‘Please answer, Deborah.’

  ‘That was years ago,’ Deborah protests.

  ‘Actually, it was about five years before your wedding. But my point is this: the charges arose from their efforts to recover a loan from a man who didn’t pay, didn’t they? They used threats at first, and when that didn’t work, they resorted to violence – serious violence, using baseball bats and rubber tubing – didn’t they?’ Deborah doesn’t reply immediately. ‘If you don’t know, I can get it from DI Bairstow later.’

  ‘I believe that was what was alleged.’

  ‘Yes: and they were convicted, weren’t they?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you tell your father and Trevor that you had become pregnant by Mr Findlay-Smyth?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And was that before the wedding?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mr Findlay-Smyth didn’t want to marry you at that time, did he?’

  ‘Of course he did.’ She sounds rather indignant.

  ‘Isn’t it true
that he agreed to marry you only when your father and Trevor explained to him exactly what would happen to him if he didn’t?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is it within your knowledge that your father and Trevor threatened Mr Findlay-Smyth that if he didn’t marry you, they would kill him or beat him within an inch of his life?’

  Aubrey is back on his feet in no time.

  ‘Your Honour, is my learned friend suggesting that this witness was present when such a threat was made?’ he asks.

  ‘No, your Honour,’ Cathy concedes at once.

  ‘In that case, your Honour, my learned friend is not entitled to ask her about it.’

  ‘I asked her whether it was within her knowledge,’ Cathy insists.

  This is getting complicated. I decide to give witness and jury a coffee break, and send them out of court.

  ‘Where is all this leading?’ I ask when they have departed. ‘Is someone going to call the father or the brother?’

  ‘I may call them in rebuttal,’ Aubrey suggests, ‘if the defence actually produces some evidence of duress. I’m not going to call them as part of my case. My learned friend is free to call them as part of her case, if she wishes.’

  ‘If he’s thinking of calling them at all,’ Cathy replies, ‘my learned friend should have provided us with witness statements from both of them. It shouldn’t be left to the defence to do that.’

  ‘As my learned friend knows,’ Aubrey insists, ‘it’s not that simple. If DI Bairstow has evidence that they may have committed an offence, he might feel that he has to interview them under caution, as suspects. In that case, they would be entitled not to answer any questions: and even if I call them, your Honour would have to caution them that they’re not obliged to answer any questions that might incriminate them.’

  ‘Your Honour,’ Cathy persists, ‘allegations are put to witnesses in court every day of the week. Just because they deny those allegations, that doesn’t give an officer any basis for interviewing them under caution. We’re entitled to witness statements.’

  ‘Miss Writtle has a point, Mr Brooks,’ I agree.

  Aubrey shakes his head. ‘Your Honour, if I could have some time with my learned friend, it may be that we can agree on something that will work for both sides.’

  I look at the court clock. It’s already twelve-thirty. I’m sure no one is going to mind an early lunch.

  ‘I will adjourn now until two o’clock,’ I agree. ‘See what you can do.’

  And so to lunch, an oasis of calm in a desert of chaos. But not immediately: first, I need to gather some information.

  As always at this time of day, Stella is at her desk, feeding information into her computer in an effort to transform it into a paperless crystal ball that will tell her what cases she needs to list over the coming weeks. An untouched canteen egg and cress sandwich and a minute packet of cheddar and onion crisps sit forlornly at the side of the computer.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, Stella,’ I say. ‘I know it’s your busy time.’

  ‘Not at all, Judge,’ she replies brightly. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Do you by any chance remember a case called Karsten? It would have come in front of Judge Drake two weeks ago.’

  She nods, briskly exits the file she was working in, and conjures up another instantly. She turns the screen towards me so that I can see for myself.

  ‘It was a benefit fraud. Nothing unusual. He was convicted, and Judge Drake adjourned it for a pre-sentence report.’ She looks at me. ‘Why do you ask, Judge?’

  I tighten my lips. ‘Did you hear anything about Judge Drake in that case, under the radar?’

  She nods. She knows immediately what I’m asking her. Two of the many things I like about Stella are: that she doesn’t need to have everything spelled out for her; and that she’s the absolute soul of discretion. Also, if there’s anything going on under the radar, Stella will almost certainly pick up on it.

  ‘No, Judge, nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual: he’s to the right of Attila the Hun; his sentences are a bit steep; he gets impatient if you come up with points of law – you know the kind of thing.’

  ‘Nothing more worrying than that?’

  She smiles. ‘No: and actually, Judge, the day I start worrying about Judge Drake will be the day I don’t hear that kind of thing about him.’

  I return the smile. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is that why Sir Jeremy was here this morning?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes. He says they received some kind of report that Judge Drake was losing the plot in court. He didn’t show me the report, needless to say. Actually, he told me that it was sent anonymously direct to the Minister. He thinks it may have been a police officer, or someone at the CPS.’

  She raises her eyebrows. ‘But Karsten was convicted, so they wouldn’t have any reason to complain about the result, would they?’ she suggests.

  ‘That’s true,’ I agree. ‘But I suppose if they were concerned… but why not raise it with me, through counsel? Who were counsel, by the way?’

  She turns the screen back in her direction. ‘Actually, Judge, the same counsel you have in front of you now, Aubrey Brooks prosecuting and Cathy Writtle defending. I remember now. They were in front of Judge Drake for two weeks. Karsten was actually the second of two related cases which Judge Drake had ordered to be listed for trial back to back. The first one was called Bourne. Both convicted.’

  I think for some time. ‘Surely Aubrey and Cathy would have let me know if there’d been anything untoward going on?’ I ask eventually.

  ‘I agree, Judge. But they couldn’t have told you at the time,’ Stella points out, tapping a key and turning the screen back towards me. ‘You were away on leave that week. We had Recorder McCabe sitting in your court while you were away.’

  ‘But they could have come to see me when I got back, couldn’t they? I was only away for the one week.’

  ‘They could,’ Stella agrees. We are silent for a few seconds. ‘Have you noticed anything yourself?’

  I shake my head. ‘Nothing to be concerned about.’

  ‘Even so, Judge, you’ll have to talk to him, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I reply, standing to take my leave. ‘I will. By the way, what did you think of Recorder McCabe?’

  Stella folds her arms to make the shape of a cross in front of her.

  ‘That bad? Really?’

  ‘Impatient, bad-tempered, sarcastic, not clear in his summings-up. I could go on. That came from Carol and Dawn as well as counsel – Emily Phipson, Piers Drayford and Julian Blanquette. I’m surprised it hasn’t filtered back to you.’

  ‘Apparently, if you go away for a week you fall out of the loop,’ I suggest.

  She looks again at her screen. ‘Oh, and here’s a coincidence. He’s a member of Judge Drake’s old chambers.’

  I smile. ‘What is it about those chambers?’

  She giggles. ‘I can’t think, Judge.’

  When I go into lunch, feeling rather tense, I am glad to see that Hubert is absent. That’s something of a rarity, given his attachment to the dreaded dish of the day. Legless tells me he’s in his chambers, working on a summing-up. It doesn’t ring true somehow, but then I reflect, I may just have become a bit paranoid about Hubert as of this morning, and that’s something I will have to live with until the situation is resolved one way or the other. I’m not ready to confront him just yet, and I am relieved that I don’t have to make small talk with him this lunchtime.

  * * *

  Monday afternoon

  As I hoped, Aubrey and Cathy have buried the hatchet for long enough to find a solution to the problem we discussed before lunch. Both father and brother will be visited by police officers and invited to make witness statements, after being cautioned that they have the right to remain silent. Whether or not they agree to make statement
s, the prosecution will produce them under subpoena for cross-examination by Cathy. All that isn’t going to happen today, of course, so for now all we can do is to proceed with the evidence that is available.

  ‘Before lunch, Deborah,’ Cathy resumes, ‘I was asking you whether you were aware of any threats made to Mr Findlay-Smyth to induce him to marry you. I ask again: is it within your knowledge that such threats were made?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Deborah replies. She sounds stronger this afternoon, as if she’s been preparing herself mentally over lunch.

  ‘How did your father react when you told him you were pregnant out of wedlock?’

  She thinks for a moment. ‘Well, obviously, he wasn’t exactly overjoyed. He asked me how I could have allowed it to happen and all the rest of it, but once he’d got that off his chest he calmed down, and he was very supportive. He knew Marcus had agreed to marry me. He said we should arrange the wedding as soon as we could, and that’s what we did.’

  ‘What did Trevor have to say about it?’

  ‘I don’t think he cared one way or the other.’

  ‘Really? He didn’t think the family’s honour had been violated?’

  She snorts. ‘No. The only honour involved was mine. It had nothing to do with Trevor. This isn’t the Middle Ages.’

  ‘You’d be surprised…’ Cathy mutters, with a sly glance in the direction of the jury, but seeing both Aubrey and myself twitching, she quickly changes tack. ‘So what you’re saying is that your father and brother really didn’t care that Marcus had got you pregnant out of wedlock?’

  ‘My father and brother were happy to have a man as rich and socially connected as Marcus joining the family.’

  ‘Happy enough to want to make very sure that he did join the family?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘And you’re not aware of any threat to kill or cause serious injury to Mr Findlay-Smyth if he refused to marry you?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Even though your father and your brother both have form for much the same thing?’