by Jason De'Ath
“That was a lie, sir. We was accused o’ nickin’ money, which we ‘adn’t.”
Carmichael rather wearily stood up to defend his witness: “My Lord, this is pure hearsay.”
“Mr Norcroft, unless you have proof, please move on. The jury should dismiss that last accusation.” instructed Ravensdale, though secretly he sympathised with Norcroft’s attack on the scurrilous Jacobsen. Meanwhile, the despondent Carmichael whispered to Allerton-Brown accusatively: “Whose bright idea was it to put this berk on the stand?” to which Allerton-Brown contentedly stated: “Yours, I believe.” But Norcroft was not finished yet.
“Mr Jacobsen, would you be so kind as to wait there a moment longer.” instructed Norcroft, then turned to Carmichael: “May I have the hotel register”; he was reluctantly handed it, whereupon he begun meticulously inspecting it, before announcing: “My Lord, I am of the opinion that something has been erased from this register – would you care to it inspect yourself, my Lord?” he asked, passing the book to the court usher, who duly handed it to Ravensdale. “My Lord, could you please inspect the entry for the 29th of July for room 26... It appears to me that a pencil entry has been scribbled over and then rubbed-out.”
“Yes... Yes, I see what you mean, Mr Norcroft. What is your point?”
“Well, my Lord, in Mr Jacobsen’s third and final written statement, it records that ’A. Johnson’ arrived early in the day, at around 2 PM and booked Room 26 on the basis that he could be transferred to a cheaper room, if one became available, and that he made a deposit. I believe that is what was originally recorded in the register, consistent with Mr Jacobsen’s final statement, and not as claimed here today in court.”
“Mr Jacobsen, is this correct, that you have changed your story?” enquired Ravensdale. “No, my Lord...I mean I don’ recall makin’ that statement.” “You don’t recall it?” asked Ravensdale incredulously.
“I mean, my Lord, that I don’ remember that part of me statement.” “I see.” groaned the judge in frustration, “Is this important, Mr Norcroft?” “It may become so, later, my Lord.” Norcroft explained rather cryptically. “That being the case, Mr Norcroft, I direct the jury to make note of this discrepancy in Mr Jacobsen’s statements.” “Thank you, my Lord.”
“Is that all?” asked the judge irritably.
“Not quite, my Lord.” Ravensdale raised his eyebrows and audibly sighed. Norcroft continued: “Mr Jacobsen, you have made a number of different statements to the police in this case, haven’t you?”
“Well, me memory comes and goes, like.” he claimed, much to the merriment of gallery and the jury.
“Yes, Mr Jacobsen, which leads one to think that your memory isn’t very reliable... Did you erase the entry in the register?”
“No sir. I don’ know nuffin’ about that. I don’ remember any pencil entry.”
“If you say so, Mr Jacobsen... It is the case though, isn’t it, that you change your statements to suit the police requirements?”
“No. I tells the troof as I remembers it.”
“If you say so, Mr Jacobsen... No more questions my Lord.” concluded Norcroft triumphantly.
Ravensdale puffed out his cheeks in sheer exasperation: “You may step down, Mr Jacobsen.” he directed with relief; Jacobsen looked equally relieved, as did the entire prosecution entourage.
As Jacobsen shuffled his way out of the Old Bailey, he was passed – though, fortunately at some distance – by a hot and flustered Gordon Storrington hurrying into the Old Bailey to give his evidence. This passed-by without incident, as Norcroft did not choose to cross-examine this witness – his evidence being considered to be indisputable, merely establishing that cartridge cases were discovered in Room 26 of the Verona Hotel on the 9th of August (two days before being reported); Storrington also verified that the Jacobsens were sacked on the 5th of August and vacated the hotel on the 6th. Following this testimony, the prosecution were unable to furnish the court with any further witnesses for the remainder of the scheduled session, which left the judge with no alternative but to adjourn until the next morning.
“Well, Miss Letheridge, I think we can safely say that the defence are firmly ahead on points.” declared Norcroft as he and his junior waltzed jubilantly into their office at Snow Hill Chambers. Norcroft flung his wig onto the desk, before slumping into his chair with air of equanimity.
“Going well, is it sir?” enquired Joe the chambers clerk.
“It certainly is, Joe. A brandy is in order, I think – Miss Letheridge?”
“Not for me thanks.” declined Fiona, who preferred to remain fully compos mentis when at her place of work.
Norcroft pulled himself out of the chair, opened the cabinet next to his desk – where he located the decanter of cognac – and poured himself a large glass of Courvoisier. “The prosecution have saddled themselves with some bloody awful witnesses.” he noted as he took a swig of brandy, “Any more like that and we’ll be able to call for a dismissal.” He joked. “It’s all about the cartridge cases tomorrow, Joe.” he stated somewhat obliquely.
“Is it indeed, sir?”
“Yes, and thanks to our delightful Miss Letheridge, it’s going to be another golden day for the defence...” Norcroft was building for a quote: “True glory takes root, and even spreads; all false pretences, like flowers, fall to the ground; nor can any counterfeit last long.”
“Cicero, sir?” asked Joe perceptively.
“Indeed it is, dear boy. You are a dark horse, my friend.”
“No, that’s Disraeli, sir.”
“Indeed it is, my boy, indeed it is.” laughed Norcroft, both gratified and astounded by the humble clerk’s literary knowledge.
The atmosphere was considerably less cordial in Jameson’s cell, back at Brixton Prison. He had endured his day of mourning and would now return to court with grit determination to emerge a free man; after all, he was now a lone father and took his duty toward his child with utmost seriousness. This was his spur to go forward, his reason to survive. As he lay on his bunk contemplating fatherhood, he wondered whether his new born was a boy or a girl.
Chapter Thirty-Two
(14 January 1966)
Friday morning in Court 6 of the Old Bailey saw the return of Arthur Jameson to the dock, now wearing a black tie to display his respect for the recently deceased. Carmichael was still feeling bruised from the previous days drubbing, but had renewed buoyancy in anticipation of the appearance of his next witness, Dr Edward Compton, ballistics expert for the Forensic Laboratory at New Scotland Yard.
“Dr Compton, your laboratory received a number of cartridge cases collected from the crime scene, along with spent bullets; you were subsequently supplied a .38 Enfield service revolver recovered from a number 36A bus, along with a considerable quantity of ammunition. What were you able to conclude from this evidence?” Carmichael contentedly sat down.
“We were able to determine from the rifling on the spent bullets recovered from the crime scene, Mr Mason’s body, and also from Miss Fable’s thigh, that they were all fired from the revolver found on the 36A bus.”
“For the jury, Dr Compton, could you please explain the principle of bullet rifling?” asked Carmichael standing briefly.
“Certainly: all gun barrels are designed with spiralling grooves which apply a spin to the bullet before it leaves the barrel of the gun; this is to improve accuracy. Every make of gun has slightly different rifling specifications, and in fact, no two guns are exactly identical, such that the microscopic rifling striations applied to a bullet fired from any gun can be matched to that specific gun – much like a fingerprint.”
“Thank you, Dr Compton. So, having established that the murder weapon was recovered from the 36A bus, what were you able to say about the used cartridge cases?”
“Ordinarily, it is difficult to link a cartridge casing to a specific gun, but in this instance it was clear from the recovered cases from the murder scene and from tests conducted in our lab’ that the st
riking hammer on this particular gun left microscopic marks that were unique to this gun.” “Why was that?” asked the judge.
“My Lord, in this particular gun, there is a small defect on the striking surface of the hammer; this defect leaves a feint impression on the surface of the casing rim. This is only visible under the microscope, but is as unique as the rifling. Comparison between the different cartridge cases found at the murder scene, the Verona Hotel and from testing the gun in the lab’, prove indisputably that all were fired from the same gun.”
“Thank you.” said Ravensdale, though he had asked the question for the jury’s benefit rather than his own.
“So, just to clarify, Dr Compton, the cartridge cases found in Room 26 of the Verona Hotel were from the murder weapon?”
“Yes – undoubtedly.”
Carmichael turned to address the jury: “Members of the jury, may I remind you that the accused, Arthur Jameson, occupied Room 26 of the Verona Hotel on the night of 29th of July last year, the day prior to the commencement of the crime. What is more, no one else had used that room for almost two weeks prior to that and no one since the 29th of July until the two cartridge cases were discovered on the 9th of August – or in fact, at all since. Given that those cartridge cases have been irrefutably linked to the murder weapon and that the accused openly admits to having stayed at the Verona on the night of the 29th of July, albeit under a false name, it must be concluded that it would be highly unlikely that anyone other than the accused could have placed them there. Also, given that everyone else identified as staying at the Verona Hotel during July has been eliminated from the police enquiries, we can be left with only one conclusion: that Arthur Jameson left those cartridge cases at the Hotel the night before committing the atrocious crimes of the 30th and 31st of July.” Carmichael bowed to the judge and sat back down with considerable satisfaction.
There was a short pause before Ravensdale said, a little expectantly: “Your witness, Mr Norcroft.”
“Thank you, my Lord... Dr Compton, how many cartridge cases were located at the crime scene and subsequently supplied for analysis?”
“Er, inventory isn’t really my responsibility.”
“I see. Well, let me enlighten you in this regard: the laboratory records indicate that five cases were supplied between the 31st of July and the 2nd of August, which tally’s with the police evidence collection record.”
“That sounds correct.” noted the doctor.
“Yes, that is not in question. Now, when the gun was recovered from the bus – also on the 2nd of August – were there any cases left in the gun?”
“Er, to my knowledge, no. The gun would appear to have been emptied of spent cartridges.”
“Yes, which again tally’s with the police records. Now, moving on to the cases found at the Verona Hotel: two were discovered on the 9th of August, although this was not reported to the police until the 11th; these were booked into the lab’ on the 11th. When were all of the analyses of these items completed?”
“Er, I can’t recall, exactly...But, I would say in mid-to-late October.”
“The laboratory evidence log indicates that ‘all’ cartridge cases were returned to police evidence at Scotland Yard on the 18th of October – which was a Monday, for the record. Now, members of the jury, your attention should be drawn to the term ‘all’. The log does not actually state the number.” Norcroft passed the inventory to the court usher, “If the jury could be allowed to inspect the log, my Lord?”
“By all means. Bring it to me afterwards, Usher.” instructed Ravensdale.
“I now wish to refer to the police evidence log for the 18th of October, which states that five cartridge cases were booked-in. If my calculations are correct, I believe that five, from the murder scene, and two, from the hotel, makes seven.” Norcroft now passed the police log to the court usher to hand to the jury. “Correct me, if I’m wrong, but doesn’t seven minus five equal two? In other words, two cartridge cases seem to have been misplaced between the period in August when they were all supplied to the lab’ and the 18th of October, when they were returned to police custody... I would suggest that the two ‘missing’ cartridge cases are in fact the ones found at the Verona Hotel and that the forensic lab’ only ever received a total of five.”
“My Lord, my learned friend seems to be adding five and two and getting five: I am unclear as to what he is inferring?” complained Carmichael.
“What are you inferring, Mr Norcroft?” asked the judge with tone of caution.
“My Lord, I am inferring that someone planted the cartridge cases at the Verona Hotel.” stated Norcroft unperturbed and intransigent in his intimation.
Carmichael could not get to his feet quick enough: “My Lord, my learned friend would appear to be casting aspersions upon the Metropolitan police?” he complained emphatically.
“Indeed.” agreed the judge, “Unless you have some proof to justify such an accusation, you will withdraw it immediately.”
“I do not, my Lord, and I withdraw the comment without reservation.” appeased Norcroft, though of course, the damage was done.
“So you should. I will have no more chicanery of this sort, Mr Norcroft. The jury will disregard the defence allegation... Mr Recorder, please omit that from the court record. Now, Mr Norcroft, unless you have any questions for which you can substantiate the necessity?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Dr Compton, you may step down.” instructed Ravensdale grumpily; Compton meanwhile was completely nonplussed.
“I suggest an interval to allow the learned defence counsel time to reflect upon their conduct. There will be a twenty minute adjournment... I will see you in my chambers, Mr Norcroft.” ordered Ravensdale ominously.
Miles Norcroft stood like a naughty public school boy in front of his headmaster, with hands clasped behind his back. The judge was ignoring him, making notes, just for the sake of heightening the tension that hung punishingly in the air.
“Well, Mr Norcroft...” The judge finally addressed him. “You seem to be hell-bent on making an impression; unfortunately, this time it is a highly discordant one. Any more antics of such a dissonant nature and it will be my unpalatable duty to report you to the Bar for disciplinary action – do you understand, Mr Norcroft?”
“I do my Lordship, and I thank you for your admonition.”
“Hmm. You are a promising barrister, young Norcroft; don’t tarnish your flourishing career by resorting to Americanized heroics – we don’t stand for that sort of thing at the Bailey...” The judge paused for a moment. “That said, I did see your point: there is something decidedly fishy about the activities of the Verona Hotel. But never point the finger at the boys in blue without hard evidence; even then, you should be very careful. Be warned dear boy, mud rarely sticks to the Met’ boys.”
“I appreciate your Lordship’s advice.” acknowledged Norcroft with a subtle bow of the head.
“I believe you are pursuing an admirable defence of Mr Jameson; the jury are practically lapping it up. You’ll have them purring before your done – so don’t spoil it. Old Carmichael is commanding a sinking ship; if he takes on much more water, he’ll be blowing bubbles.” quipped Ravensdale, which brought a conceited smile to Norcroft’s lips.
Norcroft retook his position in court; Carmichael gave him a stern glance of disapproval and presumed that Norcroft had been thoroughly knocked down to size.
“If you would care to resume the proceedings, Mr Carmichael.” prompted Ravensdale once settled back into his chair.
“Yes, my Lord... I call Detective Superintendent Ackroyd.” announced Carmichael confidently, knowing that Ackroyd would give at least as good as he got, and that while [he believed] Norcroft was still licking his wounds, would be the perfect time to inflict the Superintendent upon him.
Roger Ackroyd had kept himself fully apprised of the events of the case over the last week and knew that his performance would be critical to the prosecution’s impetus – and
he did not intend to fail them. He stood proudly in full uniform, ready to do battle.
“Superintendent, would you please tell the court how Arthur Jameson became the suspect in your enquiry into this heinous crime?”
“The discovery of the cartridge cases at the Verona Hotel was the critical evidence that led us to Arthur Jameson. Only he could have left those cartridge cases in that room, just a matter of hours before committing the pre-meditated crime.” Norcroft was about to get up, when Carmichael asked the very question he was about to:
“Why do you believe this to be a pre-meditated crime?”
“In my thirty-one years of service to the force, one gets a nose for these things. Cherrydean is a back-end of nowhere village, which few people happen across by accident. However, this is not Jameson’s usual area of activity – he much prefers the affluent suburbs. I can see no practical reason why Jameson would have been at that spot at that time, unless he had been planning it.”
“This is not his usual modus operandi, though, is it?” submitted Carmichael, again taking the words out of Norcroft’s aghast mouth.
“No. Jameson is a thief by nature; his record is testament to that.”
“So, why would this common thief turn to abduction, rape and murder?” Carmichael continued to steal Norcroft’s fire.
“It’s hard to say, but the prison medical records do indicate certain traits that might materialize themselves in this way.”
“Yes, the medical records to which you refer are exhibits 120 and 121. Two doctor’s reports: the first from November 1961, during a spell in Camp Hill, the other from October 1963, during a spell in Strangeways. The doctor at Camp Hill described Jameson as ‘mentally sub-normal, demonstrating psychotic behaviour, with delusions of grandeur’; the doctor at Strangeways described him as a ‘potential psychopath, with hysterical tendencies’. This clearly sounds like a man capable of murder.”