Killing Satisfaction

by Jason De'Ath

  “We had new information, so we needed to check their accounts; we wanted to know what they remembered of the new suspect – that is, Jameson.”

  “Did you provide any inducement in order to extract that information?” “Inducement?” queried Cambridge looking completely non-plussed.

  “Come, come, detective, we all know that some witnesses need a little encouragement; especially Jacobsen’s type.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do, but do you admit it?”

  “I wish I knew what you were talking about – then I could answer.” said Cambridge antagonistically.

  “Money, detective; did you pay money to the Jacobsens in order to get information?”

  DS Cambridge turned to address Ravensdale: “My lord, it is a well-known practice to induce reluctant witnesses to provide information in exchange for a small remuneration. I emphasize information my Lord, not evidence.” “Thank you detective. Does that alleviate your anxiety, Mr Norcroft?” goaded the judge.

  “I suppose, my Lordship.” Norcroft accepted circumspectly. “DS Cambridge, you have had something of a chequered career, haven’t you?”

  “If you are questioning my lack of promotion, then I can tell you that I have chosen to remain at this level.”

  “Really – have you...? Perhaps, but it is also true that you have been subject to disciplinary action in the past, haven’t you?”

  “Some years ago, yes.”

  “Several times, in fact... I believe you were accused of falsifying evidence in 1958 – is that correct?” Cambridge made a submissive gesture with his hands and looked at Carmichael for support.

  “My Lord, I fail to see what the detective’s employment record has to with this case?” Carmichael finally complained.

  “I agree. Does this line of questioning have any climax, Mr Norcroft?” queried Ravensdale irritably.

  “No more questions, my Lord.” conceded Norcroft, but of course the seeds of doubt had been neatly sown.

  “Do you have any questions for this witness, Mr Carmichael?”

  “No questions my Lord.”

  “You may step down, Detective...” Ravensdale checked his watch, “I understand that you have four more witnesses,

  Mr Norcroft. Shall we adjourn until tomorrow – I assume you will be able to wrap this up then?”

  “Er, yes, my Lord, mostly character witnesses.”

  “Mr Carmichael?” quizzed Ravensdale pointedly.

  “I am in concordance, My Lord.”

  “Court is adjourned until 9.15 tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  (21 January 1966)

  Arthur Jameson, sitting in his Old Bailey cell awaiting the start of the final day of evidence in his trial, contemplated the news of Dickie Paris’ death with mixed emotions. His best friend had transformed into his arch enemy, but was still the grandfather of his child; and he suspected he would have a fight on his hands getting past Mary Paris to reach his little Joanna, given the circumstances. However, there was one major hurdle to climb first, and that was the possibility of a life sentence in prison. Today promised to be a fairly agreeable one, as three of the four remaining witnesses were there to back his plea of innocence; the other was more of a mystery: Norcroft had been taciturn in relation to this witness, but had assured Arthur that the prosecution would be squirming by the end of his examination, and that was something Arthur was very much looking forward to.

  The Honourable Justice Ravensdale took his chair and the clerk of the court brought the proceedings to order. There was a sizeable contingent from Arthur’s family in the public gallery, the usual journalists and one lone woman, Mary Paris – a fact that did not escape Arthur’s notice.

  “Mr Norcroft, would you care to furnish the court with your first witness?”

  “My Lord; I call Detective Sergeant Anthony Collins.”

  DS Collins was as much in the dark with regard to his appearance in court as were the prosecution team. Collins had obviously had some experience of giving evidence in court, but he usually had a good idea what he was likely to be asked.

  “...DS Collins, you were involved in the early stages of the investigation into the Marsholm Wood murder, being one of the most local CID units at Guildford?”

  “...Er, yes, I was on the scene around 11.30 on the morning of the 31st of July, along with my Inspector.”

  “That would be DI Longbridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “A number of cartridge cases were recovered from the scene, weren’t they?” “Yes, five in total.”

  “Were you responsible for delivering those to the Forensic Laboratory?”

  “Yes, I did take care of that.”

  “DS Collins, what is your relationship with the widow of the murdered man, Mrs Anne Mason?” There was a gasp from all around the courtroom, not least from the prosecution bench, followed by a deathly silence as everyone awaited Collins’ response.

  “Er, I’m not sure what you mean. I did interview...”

  “I don’t mean your official relationship...You have been ‘looking after’ Mrs Mason, haven’t you?” “There was a threat on her life.” contended the detective, who was now sweating profusely.

  “Yes, there was. Were you officially assigned to protect Mrs Mason?”

  “Well, no, not officially... I volunteered.”

  “Volunteered? Hmm, yes, I bet you did.” Norcroft commented derisively; there was whispering in the public gallery as it became clear where this was all leading to. “Is it true that your relationship with Mrs Mason has taken on a romantic connotation?”

  “We have become close friends...Nothing more.” insisted Collins, though not too convincingly.

  “I see. That’s not really within the rules, is it?” “There’s no law against it?” asserted Collins angrily.

  “May be, but it’s something of an unwritten rule, isn’t it? I doubt your superiors would regard this relationship to be acceptable, would they?”

  Collins did not answer, instead shuffling around in the witness box, looking extremely agitated: he knew he would be serious trouble when this was over and his career would be on the line. Carmichael decided to come to the detective’s rescue, despite his own sense of resentment at hearing this revelation:

  “My Lord, Mrs Mason is not a suspect in this case, nor is she even a witness. I’m not sure exactly what this line of questioning is intended to achieve.” he argued, albeit dishonestly.

  “I think you should move on Mr Norcroft.” suggested Ravensdale, who was less than impressed by yet another allegation of misconduct against the police.

  “In that case, I have no more questions, my Lord.” Norcroft contentedly informed the judge, before giving Arthur a puckish glance. Carmichael meantime was absolutely livid, but more was to come, because during this exchange, one of the jurors had also been behaving in a decidedly agitated manner, eventually getting the attention of the clerk of the court: what she told him would cause even more trouble for both Collins and the prosecution. The clerk conveyed her message to Ravensdale, who immediately called for an adjournment and ordered the two leading barristers to his chambers for yet another reprimand; this time, neither was sure who was in the firing line.

  “...I have just been given some disturbing news from one of the jurors, Mr Carmichael.”

  “Oh, really.” Carmichael was already reeling from the DS Collins debacle, now there was something else! “Apparently she observed Collins speaking to Jacobsen last week, just before he gave his evidence.” “I assure my Lordship I have no knowledge of any of this.” protested Carmichael.

  “Did you know anything about this, Mr Norcroft?”

  “If you mean the Jacobsen matter, then no, I do not.”

  “I think that under the circumstances I have no choice but to direct the jury to dismiss all of Jacobsen’s testimony... I don’t believe it added anything of value to the case, anyway – the man was an imbecile.” mitigated Ravensdale, “There is obviousl
y going to have to be a somewhat wider police inquiry into these improprieties. Mr Norcroft, you should pass any information you have uncovered to that future inquiry – I expect your fullest cooperation; and Mr Carmichael, you need to have some strong words with the CPS in respect to these various matters: it really is an unacceptable situation to have in our criminal court; such incidents are a slur on the entire judicial system. If the public cannot have complete confidence and trust in the carriage of justice and the constancy of police conduct...well, we’ll all be out of a job, gentlemen!”

  The court was reconvened with the jury being directed to ignore all evidence given by the Jacobsens and for Derick

  Jacobsen’s testimony to be struck from the record. The next witness was Marion Gardener, one-time “steady girlfriend” of Arthur Jameson. She was a rather dour looking young woman, a brunette with bobbed hair and dark eyes; a quiet, yet sultry looking girl, which had been the initial attraction for Arthur.

  “...Miss Gardener, you were once romantically associated with the defendant – is that correct?”

  “Yes, we did date for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “About six months, I suppose. We didn’t go out that often.”

  “And during that six months, did Arthur Jameson ever give you cause to be afraid of him?”

  “No, he was always very gentle. He treated me like a lady.”

  “I have to ask you, Miss Gardener, did you ever have sex with Arthur?”

  “Only kissin’ and cuddlin’ – that’s all.”

  “And he never attempted to force himself on you?”

  “No – never.”

  “Thank you. No more questions my Lord.”

  “Miss Gardener,” began Carmichael, “why did you end your relationship with the accused?”

  “No particular reason. After six months it didn’t seem to be leadin’ anywhere, so when Arthur was arrested, I decided it was time to call it a day.”

  “No more questions my Lord.” Carmichael informed the judge somewhat wearily.

  The next witness was even more familiar to Arthur than the last, being one of his older brothers, Fred Jameson. Though they hadn’t seen much of each other over the last ten years, as children they had been very close; there were a great many happy memories of playing together, and for a time, they had been inseparable.

  “...You are the brother of the defendant, Arthur Jameson?”

  “Yes. There’s a year between us in age, so we’ve always been as thick as thieves.” There was a snigger from the gallery. “Indeed.” noted Norcroft, with a nod to the member of the public who perceived the irony in the statement, “So, you could say that you know Arthur as well as anyone?”

  “I reckon I do, yes.”

  “What sort of child was Arthur?”

  “Pretty average. We ‘ad a lot of fun together; sure we got up t’some pranks, like all kids, but nothin’ nasty. Arfur never got int’fights – I usually ‘ad t’protect ‘im. Everyone liked ‘im, though.”

  “So, in all your years together as children, you never once had cause to wonder if there might be a darker side to your brother?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Were you surprised when Arthur started getting into trouble with the police?” asked Norcroft in a bid to deny Carmichael anything to explore.

  “Yeah, I was a bit. But, time’s are ‘ard, an’ Arfur weren’t never no scholar. ‘E could see what there was out there an’ ‘e wanted some of it. If ‘e couldn’t get it by legal means, then...”

  “By which you mean material wealth, status – that sort of thing?”

  “Yeah, exactly. I a’n’t sayin’ I agree wiv ‘is thievin’, but I can understand it.”

  “So, a lovable rogue?”

  “Yeah, a lovable rogue – that’s Arfur.”

  Carmichael couldn’t be bothered to waste his time cross-examining such a biased witness as it wasn’t likely to yield anything remotely defamatory. The final witness now took their place on the stand, a criminal associate who had remained loyal to Arthur’s cause, the Liverpudlian Desmond Naismith, a dapper fellow with a freckled face that belied his true nature. “...Mr Naismith, you met the accused in Walton Prison, yes?”

  “Yis, wuz cell mates.”

  “And you are one of his contacts in Liverpool, yes?”

  “Yis ‘e put some business me way sometimes.”

  “That being stolen goods and alike?”

  “Yis.”

  “What kind of criminal would you say the accused is?” “Eez a b’glar; and blags cars.” he empathically declared.

  “Indeed. Would you say that he was inclined to be violent?”

  “Nah, not dat I’ve seun.”

  “Were you surprised when you heard about the charges against him?”

  “Dead gob-smacked.”

  “I have no more questions, my Lord.” declared Norcroft with finality.

  “Mr Carmichael, do you have anything else to add to these proceedings?”

  “One question my Lord. Mr Naismith, have you ever seen the Hollywood film The Criminal Code – Walter Huston starred, I believe?”

  “Can’t say ay ‘uv.”

  “Shame, it has an interesting plot that would probably appeal to a member of the criminal fraternity.” “Is there any point to this?” groaned Ravensdale, who was anxious to adjourn for lunch.

  “I think so, my Lord. You see, the plot of that film revolves around the concept of the criminal code, the prisoners’ code of silence, even when faced with a moral dilemma. I think it suggests that in such circumstances as this, criminals tend to stick together.” said Carmichael blandly, after which he quietly sat down.

  “Are you finished, Mr Carmichael?” growled Ravensdale.

  “Oh, yes, my Lord.”

  “You may step down Mr Naismith...Mr Norcroft?”

  “Er, that concludes the case for the defence, my Lord.”

  “The court will now adjourn for lunch, while Mr Carmichael composes his closing address – I’m sure we are all looking forward to that.” the judge unkindly quipped.

  The end of the trial had finally been reached after nine full days of evidence. Because the defence had called witnesses other than character witnesses, they were not allowed a final address to the jury, whereas the prosecution were, which gave them something of an advantage leading into the consideration of the verdict – and how they needed that.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Carmichael began his address, “you have now heard all of the evidence; listened to a great many witnesses; seen numerous exhibits; you have even participated in psychological experiment: it is now your responsibility to consider this voluminous information and arrive at the correct verdict. The defence have done their best to distract you from the facts of the case: do not be mislead by their obfuscation and sleight of hand. Members of the jury, there are a number of hard facts to this case and it is these that you should focus your attention.

  The most persuasive evidence must be the identification of the defendant by the only indisputably credible witness, Vera Fable. The defence have tried to discredit her definitive identification with some parlour tricks: you should disregard that. Several other witnesses also managed to pick the defendant from a line-up, which adds even greater significance to Vera Fable’s affirmation of the defendant’s guilt. I think it was Benjamin Disraeli that said, ‘there are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics’ – an adage worth remembering, members of the jury.

  You have been spun a web of lies in respect to the Liverpool/Rhyl alibi: ask yourselves why the defendant did not present this alibi from the outset. The defence has attempted to diminish the importance of the identification evidence, on the basis of some dubious statistics. The fact is though, that the ability of witnesses to accurately recall details of time and date are in fact far less reliable than witness identification is alleged to be. Moreover, there is good reason to suspect that this alibi is a concoction of partial truths,
established on different days to those which are claimed.

  Then we have the cartridge cases. The defence would like you to believe that these were planted, by either the police or members of the criminal fraternity in a bid to frame the defendant. Why? There is not the slightest modicum of logic to this assertion, however convenient it would be. Only one person could have left those cartridge cases in that hotel room, and that is the accused.

  The defence have entertained us with their character witnesses; but, members of the jury, nearly all of the defendant’s closest friends have given evidence for the prosecution, and at considerable expense to their personal circumstances. Why would they be compelled to do that unless they were convinced of his guilt?

  Arthur Jameson perfectly fits the description of the gunman physically, linguistically, geographically and demographically. There can only be so many coincidences. When that is all taken into account, along with the defendant’s confession to a fellow prisoner, and the blood group evidence, the statistical likelihood that the defendant is the gunman is overwhelming.” Norcroft was tempted to interrupt in response to the flagrant contradiction, having to sharply bite his tongue.

  “Members of the jury, you have the opportunity to ensure that a very dangerous man is permanently removed from society, so that innocent people, like yourselves, your families and your friends, can be protected from any further despicable acts by Arthur Jameson. You must therefore return a verdict of guilty on all charges.” a pin drop could have been heard as Carmichael calmly sat down.

  Ravensdale broke the silence: “Thank you Mr Carmichael... During my many years as judge there have been few cases over which I have presided that are both so serious and so difficult to adequately evaluate in respect to the defendant’s guilt or innocence. If you the jury should decide that the defendant was the gunman, then the circumstances of this crime are such that there can be no doubt of the intent to do serious harm. In the instance of Gregg Mason, you must consider that firing a gun at such close range would almost certainly result in the death of the victim; the defence have not attempted to propose the possibility that Gregg Mason’s death was accidental, so you do not need to consider that. Therefore, you must find the defendant guilty of murder. In the case of the attempted murder of Vera Fable, there was clear intent in the number of shots fired at close range and in the final shot to the head, to infer the intent to kill: you would therefore have to find the defendant guilty of attempted murder. With regard to the abduction charge, again, the evidence against the gunman is overwhelming and I would direct the jury to find the defendant guilty.