by Todd, Ian
“The officer wis left wae a right keeker oan his right eye, yer honour.”
“So, how come she’s here and no alang at the Sheriff Court then?”
“While the assault wis quite vicious, the sergeant in question will survive, yer honour. Ah recommended the Sheriff Court, bit wis informed that ye’d want tae deal wae this wan yersel.
“Whit? Ah...er...oh, aye, right, Ah furgoat. Carry oan, Miss Metcalfe,” JP said, looking across at the wooden bench towards Colin, the Toonheid inspector, who wis sitting there wae Big Jim Stewart, wan ae his sergeants.
“The accused wis seen by a number ae eyewitnesses tae punch Sergeant Liam Thompson in the eye as he arrived tae break up a riot.”
“A riot, ye say?” JP asked, tilting his horn-rimmed glasses so he could get a good swatch ae the defendant in the dock.
“Indeed.”
“Is this connected wae the rabble Ah’ve jist dealt wae five minutes ago, Miss Metcalfe?” he asked, glancing across at Betty and Sharon, the only two ae the wummin whose men hid let them stay tae watch the proceedings.
“Aye, it is.”
“So, how come she wisnae lumped in wae them?” he asked, knowing fine well that Taylor wis staunin her ground and pleading not guilty.
“Oot ae them aw, Taylor is the only wan that’s contesting the charges and pleading ‘not guilty’ yer honour.”
“Is that right, Mrs Taylor? Ye’re pleading not guilty, ur ye?” he asked, no believing his luck that at long last, efter aw these years, the bitch wis at his mercy.
“Aye.”
“Right, so where’s that brief ae yours tae put forward yer plea?”
“Mrs Taylor his refused the services ae a court-appointed solicitor, yer honour,” the procurator volunteered.
“She his, his she? Noo, why dis that no surprise me, eh? So, who’s representing her?”
“Ye wid need tae ask Mrs Taylor that wan yersel, yer honour.”
“Mrs Taylor?”
“Ah’ve nae faith in the abilities ae the lawyers that came tae see me this morning.”
“Oh, ye hivnae, hiv ye?”
Silence.
“And ye think ye’d dae better staunin there oan yer ain, arguing yer ain case, dae ye?”
“Ah believe that whit Ah hiv tae say will show that Ah never assaulted anywan, anywhere, and certainly no up in John Street.”
“Right, well, we’ll soon see aboot that, won’t we? Seeing as we aw know the assault charge is connected tae the rabble who aw pleaded guilty earlier, Ah think Ah’ve goat the picture ae whit wis gaun oan. O’er tae yersel, Miss Metcalfe,” JP said, nodding.
“Ah’ve asked the eyewitnesses who wur present yesterday tae be here the day, yer honour, including Sergeant Thompson, the assaulted sergeant.”
“Well, ye better shout him in then.”
Aw heids in the courtroom swivelled tae follow the court usher as he went across and opened the door wae a sign that said ‘Witnesses’ oan it.
Helen looked across at Liam Thompson as he stood fidgeting aboot in the witness box, gaun through his pockets, before extracting a wee black notebook. She felt a wee painful twinge oan the knuckles ae her right haun. She wanted tae burst oot laughing. It looked as if somewan hid stuck a squashed purple plum oan tae that face ae his where his eye socket should’ve been.
“So, Sergeant, in yer ain words, tell us how ye came tae be sporting a black eye?”
“Well, masel and a group ae other officers arrived forthwith tae break up a riot that wis in progress ootside a closemooth at number sixty eight John Street yesterday morning. As Ah ran across tae protect the sheriff officers and potential buyers, who wur attending a warrant sale, Mrs Taylor scudded me oan ma right eye wae her right fist…tae ma severe injury,” the sergeant droned stiffly, looking up fae his notebook wae his wan good eye.
“And whit happened then?” asked the procurator fiscal.
“Ah hit the deck like a sack ae totties,” he replied, tae a titter ae laughter fae the crowded public benches.
“So, she knocked ye oot in wan go then?” the procurator fiscal asked, as aw eyes in the court looked between Liam Thompson and the defendant.
“Well, Ah widnae say it wis a knockoot blow,” he replied defensively.
“So, whit wid ye say it wis then?”
“Ah’d say that she fluked a lucky punch through ma defences.”
“Whit Ah’m trying tae get fae ye, Sergeant, is that when ye went doon, ye stayed doon. Is that right?”
“Well, Ah widnae say that exactly.”
“So, ye goat back up and re-joined the affray?”
“Efter ma heid cleared, Ah managed tae get back up tae restore order.”
“And that’s when ye arrested Taylor?
“Wance Ah managed tae calm things doon, me and ma men lifted her and her screaming cronies and proceeded tae cart them doon tae Central tae be charged.”
“Mrs Taylor, dae ye want tae contradict or challenge anything Sergeant Thompson his jist said?” the procurator fiscal asked, turning tae face Helen.
“Aye, did he jist say he arrived tae break up a riot?”
“Sergeant Thompson?”
“Aye.”
“And the riot wis in full flow when ye arrived, wis it?” asked Helen, exaggerating the disbelieving, surprised expression oan her face.
“Aye.”
“How tall ur ye?”
“Eh?”
“Ah asked ye how tall ye ur?”
“Er, six feet three and a hauf.”
“So, ye’re claiming that it wis me, aw five feet four inches ae me…a wee skinny wummin…who knocked ye oot wae a single punch then?” Helen asked, as laughter erupted fae the public benches.
“Ah think Ah awready mentioned that efter Ah hit the deck, Ah sprung back up oan tae they feet ae mine pretty pronto, so Ah did.”
“And jist before this so-called ‘knockoot punch’ landed, wur ye swinging a polis baton aboot at aw and sundry, by any chance?”
“It wis a Thursday,” he reminded her, looking across and getting a wee wink back fae Big Jim.
“So, ye never hid a baton in yer haun when ye ran across tae stoap a bunch ae wummin, peacefully protesting ootside the closemooth ae an auld age pensioner who wis the victim ae a warrant sale taking place in her damp hoose up in John Street, because she couldnae afford the rent?”
“Naw.”
“Did any polismen hiv batons in their hauns when they charged o’er tae break up this so-called riot?”
“Ma men hid tae eventually draw their batons tae defend themsels.”
“So, ye’re saying that ye didnae hiv a baton in yer haun before youse aw charged o’er tae the peaceful demonstration. Is that right?”
“Aye, that’s right,” he replied, as the procurator fiscal jumped up oot ae her chair.
“Okay, thanks, Sergeant Thompson. Ye kin leave the witness staun, bit Ah wid ask ye tae hing aboot till Ah tell ye that ye kin leave the building,” the prosecutor said, dismissing him.
“Er, Ah wisnae finished questioned him,” Helen objected, as the sergeant joined his other two colleagues.
“Is that it, Miss Metcalfe?” JP asked, pleased that the defendant hid been body-swerved fae continuing her line ae questioning.
“Naw, yer honour, Ah wid like tae call PC Scullion Smith.”
“Is this gonnae take long?” JP asked, looking at the clock up oan the wall.
“PC Smith will be able tae corroborate whit Sergeant Thompson his jist stated as a fact, yer honour.”
“Right, gie him a shout then, Bob,” JP said, looking across at the court usher.
“Ur ye PC Scullion Smith and wur you drafted in fae Possil tae attend a riot taking place up in John Street, Toonheid, yesterday morning?”
“Aye, that’s right.”
“According tae Sergeant Thompson, sitting o’er there, he wis punched oan the eye by that wummin…the accused…sitting o’er there in the dock. Is that right?”
“That’s right
.”
“So, ye saw it happen?”
“Aye, Ah did.”
“So, whit happened?”
“Ah wis lying oan the deck, haudin ma ba...hauns between ma legs and when Ah turned roond, Ah saw her punching The Sarge.”
“Ye’re sure aboot that? Ye widnae be mistaken?”
“Naw, naw. It’s no every day ye see a punch like that, and believe you me, Ah’ve seen a few. It’ll be a long time before Ah furget that wan,” the PC stated straight-faced, as everywan burst oot laughing, except the injured sergeant and his colleagues.
“And whit wur ye daeing oan the ground, PC Smith?”
“As Ah said, Ah wis haudin ma ba...oh, Ah see whit ye mean. Ah’d jist been trampled underneath by a herd ae fat wummin.”
“Bit, ye saw whit happened. Is that right?”
“Oh, aye.”
“Mrs Taylor, dae ye want tae ask PC Smith anything?” asked JP, looking up at the clock again.
“Ur ye stationed in the Toonheid?”
“Naw.”
“Where ur ye normally based?”
“Possilpark.”
“So, why wur ye in John Street yesterday?”
“Ah wis called in tae help oot the local boys.”
“Fur whit?”
“Tae repel a riot.”
“When wur ye asked tae come tae the Toonheid?”
“Two days ago.”
“So, ye said ye wur lying oan the deck because ye wur trampled by some wummin. Is that right?”
“Aye, and no jist the wance either.”
“So, it wis mair than wance then?”
“Aye.”
“And ye wur injured?”
“They deliberately went fur ma ba...bottom hauf, if ye know whit Ah mean?”
“Naw, whit dae ye mean?”
“Well, they charged me and Ah fell back and oan the way o’er the tap ae me, they deliberately dug their high heels intae that crotch ae mine.”
“Twice?”
“Aye, oan the way there and the way back.”
“So, ye wur writhing in agony then?”
“Agony? Ma left ba...er…nut…wis punctured like a pin cushion, no tae mention the severe bruising. They’re the size ae tennis baws noo. Whit dae you think?”
“And efter ye’d been run o’er by a group ae wummin, whit did ye dae then?”
“Ah curled up, screaming in agony.”
“So, ye wur howling and greeting then?”
“Naw, naw, the tears wurnae because Ah wis greeting. The tears wur tears ae pain,” he replied tae mair laughter fae the public benches.
“Bit, through they agonising tears ae yers, ye still managed tae see Sergeant Thompson being assaulted by me. Is that right?”
“Aye,” he replied, as the procurator sprang back up oan tae her feet.
“Okay, fine. Ye kin leave the witness staun, PC Smith, bit Ah wid ask ye tae hing aboot till Ah tell ye that ye kin leave the building,” the prosecutor telt him.
“Er, excuse me, bit Ah wisnae finished questioning him,” Helen objected, looking fae the prosecutor tae JP and back again.
“Is that it, Miss Metcalfe?” JP asked quickly, avoiding eye contact wae the defendant.
“Jist wan mair witness, yer honour.”
“Right, oan ye go, bit make it quick, eh?”
“So, PC Cross, whit happened tae yer eyes?”
“Ah contracted strabismus jist efter Ah joined the force,” Crisscross replied tae laughter.
“Naw, Ah meant yer black and blue bruised eyes.”
“Oh, right. Ah wis assaulted by her pals,” the squinty-eyed PC said, pointing across at the defendant.
“And whit did ye see yesterday morning when ye wur in attendance, attempting tae quell a riot up in John Street?”
“Ah saw her putting wan oan ma sergeant.”
“Whit dis that mean?”
“It means Ah saw her punch Sergeant Thompson oan the eye.”
“And where wur ye when ye saw this?”
“Ah wis lying oan the pavement ootside number sixty eight.”
“That wis efter ye’d been assaulted?”
“Aye, wan ae them stuck the heid oan me. When Ah looked up, Ah saw her punching The Sarge.”
“And ye’re sure aboot that? Ye widnae be mistaken?”
“Naw, she’s a well-known trouble-maker that wan, so she is,” Crisscross said, glad tae stick the boot in.
“Mrs Taylor?” the procurator enquired, taking a seat.
“So, who did ye say assaulted ye, PC?”
“Ah don’t know.”
“So, ye never saw who assaulted yersel, bit ye managed tae see who assaulted Thompson?”
“Sergeant Thompson…aye.”
“So, how come ye never saw who assaulted yersel?”
“Because it happened so fast. Ah wis that blinded, it took me a while tae get ma eyes focussed and when Ah did, whoever hid done it wis offskie.”
“And that’s when ye conveniently saw me assaulting Thompson?”
“Sergeant Thompson…aye.”
“When ye arrived oan the scene, wis there a riot gaun oan?”
“Aye.”
“And did ye run across tae it, swinging yer baton like a man possessed?”
“Eh?”
“Did ye run across the road, swinging yer baton aboot?”
“Who, me?”
“When did ye first draw yer baton?”
“When The Sarge shouted tae us tae defend oorselves efter a few ae the boys hid drapped like flies.”
“If Ah telt ye Ah wis staunin getting ma picture taken wae the other peaceful protesters when we wur attacked by the polis welding truncheons, whit wid ye say?
“Ah’d say ye wur lying through they false teeth ae yers.”
“Is that it, Miss Metcalfe?” JP asked, butting in and looking a bit uncomfortable.
“It is, yer honour,” the procurator said, jumping back up oan tae her feet. “Ye kin step doon fae the witness stand, PC Cross.”
“Bit…” Helen interjected.
“It seems clear tae me and everywan else in this courtroom that Taylor assaulted Sergeant Thompson, withoot a shadow ae a doubt. Mrs Taylor, who wis clearly the ringleader, his stood there, blatantly trying tae undermine the due process ae the law, despite overwhelming eye witness accounts that prove she assaulted Sergeant Thompson tae his severe injury. Who knows whit might’ve happened in John Street if it wisnae fur the brave officers who attended the scene? Ah don’t think there’s much mair Ah kin add tae whit his awready been established and proved. Ah rest ma case,” the procurator fiscal said, sitting doon and avoiding eye contact wae the defendant.
“Well done, Miss Metcalfe. Ah’m really impressed. Ah kin see why ye were appointed in the first place. Ye’re a credit tae ma court, so ye ur.”
“Aw, thank ye, sir,” a blushing procurator fiscal murmured across tae the bench.
“Right, well, if that’s everything?” JP asked, looking at the clock and then across at the defendant. “Is there anything else ye want tae say before Ah find ye guilty and pass sentence, Taylor?”
“Aye, first of aw, Ah’m no finished. Ah’d like tae call some ae ma ain witnesses.”
“Witnesses? Whit dae ye mean, ye want tae call witnesses?”
“Ah, mean, if Miss Calf o’er there kin call witnesses, then so kin Ah.”
“Er, excuse me, bit that wisnae witnesses. Correct me if Ah’m wrang here, Miss Metcalfe. That wis the people who wur assaulted, jist gieing their side ae the story, wisn’t it?”
“That’s right. They wurnae asked tae take an oath. They wur jist called tae corroborate and establish the facts.”
“So, Ah’d jist like tae call some people…jist tae corroborate and establish the facts, that is,” Helen demanded, trying, bit failing, tae get eye-contact wae the procurator.
“Look, Mrs Taylor. We’re no playing at ‘Inherit the Wind’ here, and ye’re no Henry Drummond, y’know. This is Glesga Central District Court…ma
court. This is fur real, so it is. So, if ye’ve nothing else tae say, we’ll maybe move oan. Ah’ve goat a busy day aheid ae me.”
“Ur ye trying tae deny me ma rights?”
“In here, ye don’t hiv any rights. Ah run this court.”
“So, ye ur?”
“Whit?”
“Denying me ma rights tae call witnesses.”
“Hiv ye anything else ye want tae add?”
“Aye, Ah dae. Ah’d jist like tae say that aw yer witnesses that wur called the day, hiv telt a pack ae lies and Ah kin prove it.”
“So, where’s yer proof then?”
“Ah telt ye, Ah need tae call some witnesses tae back up whit Ah’m aboot tae tell ye.”
“Which is whit?”
“That yesterday, masel and some other wummin wur protesting peacefully at the warrant sale ae Mrs Madge Morrison, when we wur attacked by a gang ae polis wielding polis truncheons.”
“Bit, hiv ye no heard whit the polis officers who wur there hiv jist said?”
“Aye, bit that’s their side ae the story. Ah’ve goat people who say differently.”
“So, where ur they then?”
“Ah’m no sure. There’s a few ae them sitting o’er there and some ae them might still be in the building. If no, Ah’ll need time tae contact them.”
“Miss Metcalfe, kin ye come o’er closer tae me fur a minute. Ah need tae ask yer advice.”
Helen sat and watched whit wis gaun oan. She looked aroond the packed court and didnae recognise anywan apart fae Betty and Sharon and her ain daughter Isabelle, who gied her a wee encouraging smile. She wis also surprised tae clock The Rat hovering aboot up at the back. It hidnae taken her long tae realise that she wis the turkey in the midst ae a kangaroo court. She’d sat in this very room oan numerous occasions when her boys hid been in the dock that she wis noo sitting in. It aw seemed so surreal. She’d seen how justice wis meted oot tae anywan who dared step oot ae line oan many an occasion. She wis glad that she’d managed tae convince Betty and Sharon tae go wae the other lassies and plead guilty tae save them fae being put away. There hid been a lot ae to-ing and fro-ing between Howdy and his shyster pal, bit eventually the procurator fiscal and JP hid relented and accepted their reduced pleas, alang wae the rest ae the lassies. She felt exposed, sitting there, wondering whit JP and the procurator wur saying tae each other. She hidnae been as naïve as tae think the odds wurnae stacked against her, especially wae JP sitting oan the bench, bit surely tae God, there wisnae any way he could find her guilty withoot her hivving hid the opportunity tae call some ae the lassies as witnesses that wid back her story up. She’d felt confident that she’d be let oot the day, bit wid probably hiv tae come back at some time in the future. It hid never entered her heid that aw the lassies widnae hiv been sitting wae Betty and Sharon in the public gallery. It wis only when she noticed they wurnae there, that she’d sussed oot that they’d aw hid tae get hame tae see tae their weans. She hid a bad feeling in the pit ae her stomach as she stared o’er at JP and that tart, who wur still whispering like a pair ae hens.