The Pinocchio Brief

by Silver Abi

  “Just that I didn’t do it,” he murmured. But even as he spoke, convincing as it appeared superficially, Judith spied something erratic and disjointed in his movements, something bizarre and jerky around his chin, then a vein in his neck bulged and faded. She gripped the lectern with both hands.

  “Thank you, Raymond. Your Honour, may I request we take a 30-minute break at this convenient point to allow me to take instructions and to give my client a break from questioning.”

  “Quite so. Good idea. 3.45 then.”

  ***

  JUDITH RACED to the ladies’ toilet at the adjournment and splashed cold water over her face again and again. She gazed into the mirror; she still appeared flushed, but this would fade if she could just relax. She should be ecstatic given Ray’s testimony. Of course, he was far from safe, but he had delivered his evidence perfectly and, so far, the jury should be on his side, willing something to come out which would exonerate him. That was the best she could possibly have hoped for at this stage. And if Pinocchio “believed” him there was a fighting chance the jury would acquit, despite her inability to find the culprit.

  But she could not ignore her instincts, honed by years of asking questions and dissecting responses. Something was awry. Something was simply not right.

  Judith checked her phone for messages from Constance but nothing appeared. She called Constance three times in close succession but each time received her answer phone message.

  Then, as she stared one final time at her own ragged countenance reflected in the mirror, she had a thought. She leaned in close to the glass and blinked once, then twice, then she raised one eyebrow, then both. Then she closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall forward and rest against the cool glass, as the reason Ray had requested the mirror from her all those weeks ago became suddenly and painfully clear.

  When court reconvened, and before Ray could be returned to the witness box, Mr Arkwright leapt boldly to his feet.

  “May it please Your Honour and this court, I propose that the prosecution provide the results of the Pinocchio truth verification software so far; that is to say, as far as the accused has given his evidence, now, before the accused continues.”

  Judith found his request so preposterous she almost did not bother to address the judge. However, the thoughtful look in Judge Blake’s eye, where she had hoped to find chagrin, forced her to rise and speak.

  “Your Honour, that would be most unusual. My client is in the middle of his evidence.”

  “No, Your Honour, it would not be unusual.” Arkwright shot a sly glance at Judith as he returned fire without respite, a glance which told her that she was not up to speed and he certainly was.

  “Indeed, at the end of the Birmingham pilot it became common practice to provide the results after each session,” he declared self-assuredly. “It was found to assist the judge, as the results of the questions arrived whilst the questions themselves were still fresh in the mind, instead of hours or days later. It was also adjudged to help the defence as they had an opportunity to put questions a second time to the accused to see if, well, if the results were any different second time around, if you follow my drift. It allowed both parties to focus on key areas of the testimony and occasionally it saved both time and costs when the accused changed his plea once the results were known.”

  Judith opened her mouth and closed it again. Arkwright was overdoing things when he referred to “common practice”, although her research had shown her this had happened at least once before and what he was proposing would be disruptive. She rose to address the judge but he waved her back into her seat, turned to his laptop and spent a moment or two reviewing some material on his screen. The court remained silent throughout his machinations.

  “Thank you, Mr Arkwright. Miss Burton, I don’t need to hear from you. I am satisfied that it would be a proper use of Pinocchio for us to hear the results of the accused’s testimony so far. Mr Arkwright, how were you proposing to produce those results to the court?”

  Judith gasped. She was not ready for this, not ready to hear whether Pinocchio liked Ray or not or more importantly believed him, especially now she had an inkling of what he had been doing with the mirror Constance had procured for him during his weeks of incarceration.

  She had hoped that if Constance returned soon, they might have had the solution to the brainteaser that was Roger Davis’ murder and Pinocchio might not ever have needed to cogitate and pass sentence. She sat down stiffly, her impotence overwhelming her.

  “I propose running the results on the screen here in court for everyone to see. It will show Miss Burton’s question, followed by the accused’s answer and then declare the results one by one,” Arkwright pronounced.

  “But Your Honour, it is already 3.45 and we are due to finish at 4.30.” Judith half stood and made a feeble further attempt to postpone matters. Judge Blake waved his hand in majestic fashion.

  “Do you have somewhere to go to, Miss Burton?”

  “No, I...”

  “Well then. I suggest we just get on with it. I will decide at what point we rise today.”

  The judge nodded towards the Pinocchio operator, who sprang obediently into action. Judith stared at the lectern.

  Within five minutes the lights in the courtroom were dimmed and a filmed version of Judith asking Ray all those questions was ready to be played out again in court. Judith crossed her fingers tightly under the table and waited for the software to run. She had done her utmost to avoid this moment, now all she could do was hope.

  ***

  “THERE’S NO need to hear the preamble,” Arkwright directed the IT man. “Let’s start from the meat of the questions.” He consulted a chunky print out in front of him.

  “Let’s take it from Miss Burton’s questions regarding Mr Davis, beginning with, yes, her enquiries regarding punishment and the like, if you can find that,” he ordered assertively before turning his papers face down.

  The film began to play and Judith watched intently, together with everyone else in the silent courtroom.

  “Did he shout at you ever?” Judith saw herself asking the question through a film of exasperation.

  “Shout? No I don’t think so.”

  There was a pause of around five seconds, followed by a click, then an overly mechanical male-sounding voice declared, “This answer is a lie.” There were gasps and shuffles around the courtroom as Pinocchio confirmed that Ray had not told the truth this time.

  “Did you have detention or any other punishment?” Judith wilted as she saw herself continue. She didn’t like to watch herself at the best of times, this could hardly be worse.

  “No.”

  Another short hiatus and then, “This answer is a lie,” the voice stated again, clearly, coldly, resolutely.

  “So moving on to the day of the… the day when Mr Davis died. You went to his room?”

  “Yes.”

  “This answer is a lie,” stated Pinocchio.

  “What time was that?”

  “2.52.”

  “This answer is a lie,” continued Pinocchio.

  “That’s very precise.”

  “I’m just answering your question.”

  “This answer is a lie,” Pinocchio declared once more.

  “Why did you go to his room?”

  “I wanted to talk to him.”

  “This answer is a lie,” Pinocchio continued, confident and irrefutable.

  Judith lowered her head to her hands. How could this be happening? Of course, they had only had Ray’s word for it that he had visited Davis earlier in the afternoon, that he had heard voices behind the closed door. But he had seemed so genuine and it had fitted with Mrs Taylor’s version of events.

  “Well, that is clear. What is it that was so urgent you had to speak to him then and not wait till your next lesson?”

  The shrug from Ray which Judith remembered. “I had some ideas for something. I wanted to tell him.”

  “This answer is a lie.” Jud
ith began to hear Pinocchio’s clanging voice distorted and pounding over within her head.

  “What happened when you went to Mr Davis’ room?”

  “I went to his room. The door was closed. I went away. That’s all.”

  “This answer is a lie.”

  The film continued right until the last words uttered before the break, which Judith sorely regretted proposing. If she had continued there would have been no opportunity for Arkwright to put his plan into action. Instead, every single answer provided by Raymond had been publicly pronounced a lie by Pinocchio.

  Judith wondered if she should advise Ray to plead guilty. It would make very little difference now to his sentence, she knew that, but it would bring the agony of the trial to an end for his mother and sister and, if she had to be frank, for herself too. All the hard work she had undertaken with Mrs Taylor, Mr Bailey and the others. It was for nothing. Pinocchio had obliterated everything.

  But then, as the lights went up she glanced at Arkwright. He was sitting comfortably back on the upright bench, his belly rippling, his Pinocchio printout face down on the table. Why should he be so careful to overturn his papers when he had played the results out in court? she mused. And why had he not provided her with a copy even though it was a record of her own questions and Ray’s very public answers? She stiffened. There was always a reason for everything.

  She gazed intently at Arkwright and was rewarded by a quiver in his chin and a reddening of his cheek. She had an idea; she would not give up yet. She rose awkwardly and spoke in the chirpiest tone she could muster, although she found she required the support of the lectern even to remain upright.

  “Your Honour. I will wish to address the court in a moment on the surprising, perhaps some might say incredible, results of the Pinocchio software just presented to us by my learned friend, but I must request sight of the earlier footage too – what my learned friend referred to a few moments ago as the ‘preamble’.”

  “Miss Burton. Is that really necessary? I mean, they were preliminary questions for the witness, about family and friends,” the judge replied. “And your client has been found to have lied on every count so far. Do you believe things will be different with the other material?”

  “No, Your Honour, quite the contrary, but if Your Honour will allow me to make my point. It will only take five minutes more and the rules state, in any event, that the accused’s entire testimony should be subject to scrutiny, not selected parts.” Judith made up the last bit but her delivery and common sense approach carried her through.

  “Very well. Usher, dim the lights again. Five minutes, Miss Burton. That’s your limit.”

  Again, the film appeared on the screen, beginning from the first moment when Raymond had started to speak.

  “Please state your full name.” Judith tuned into the testimony, anticipating, with some muted optimism this time, the results of Pinocchio’s deliberation.

  “Raymond James Maynard.”

  “This answer is a lie.” Judith swallowed once, the adrenalin kicking in once more. Yes, she still had hope. All was not lost.

  “Thank you. Hello Raymond. How are you?”

  “Fine thank you, Miss Burton.”

  “This answer is a lie.” Judith tried to regulate her breathing.

  “And how old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “This answer is a lie.” Judith allowed herself a millisecond of preening.

  “So you must have celebrated a birthday recently.”

  “Yes it was last week. The 22nd. I wasn’t allowed a cake.”

  “This answer is a lie.”

  “Ah, well, let’s hope your next birthday is spent in a more relaxing way.”

  “I hope so, yes.”

  “This answer is a lie.”

  “Raymond, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Yes.”

  “This answer is a lie.”

  “So, is it a brother?”

  “No, I have a sister.”

  “This answer is a lie.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Marnie.”

  “This answer is a lie.”

  The muttering in the courtroom began to gather momentum as the more intelligent and focussed members assembled had begun to understand the significance of what they were witnessing. Judith stared hard at Arkwright, who began to pick his fingernails under the table.

  Judge Blake waved his hands around wildly. “Mr Arkwright. Turn it off!” he commanded loudly, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the courtroom before alighting on the software operator, then Raymond, then finally Judith. The audience chatter gradually petered out.

  “Miss Burton, I imagine you would like to say something.”

  “Your Honour, yes. It may have become obvious as you watched that most recent exchange that I am formally applying once more for you to disregard Pinocchio’s results and to direct the jury to do the same.”

  Judge Blake chewed his lip. It was beyond comprehension that the boy had lied to every question and, clearly, some of the answers he had given must have been true, but this unexpected development placed him in a predicament. He could not bring himself to reject Pinocchio yet, not after this case, under his jurisdiction, had been chosen for its showcasing to the world and after the glorious fanfare introduction he had given.

  “Mr Arkwright. Clearly, we have some unexpected results here. What do you have to say?”

  “Your Honour. Those questions which Miss Burton just replayed, they weren’t really questions,” Arkwright retorted, squirming in the spotlight.

  “Your Honour. With respect to Mr Arkwright,” Judith replied. “That’s simply not accurate. When my client was asked his age, you recall, a clear question, he said it was his birthday recently. If Your Honour will indulge me I will have a copy of my client’s birth certificate produced to the court.”

  “Your Honour, if I may interject.” Arkwright rose this time. “When the accused related the circumstances of knocking on Davis’ door, that came up as a lie, finding him dead on the floor, lie, protesting vehemently, as he did at the end that he did not kill Roger Davis, lie, lie, lie. We need the results in. This is precisely what Pinocchio was designed to do, to find the lies and expose them, quickly and efficiently.”

  “But Your Honour, if the software can’t distinguish for this boy between lies and truth on simple questions, his birthday, family members, boys in his class, it cannot be trusted on the more complex. It becomes of no value and allowing the results to stand and endorsing them for the public is, well, enormously misleading.”

  “Your Honour. This truth verification evidence is key for us. We want it in without dispute. There is no reason to disregard it, simply because it provides a result Miss Burton does not like.”

  Judge Blake sighed once. He did not want to suggest there had been any malfunction of the software, as this played straight into the hands of the various detractors who had opposed Pinocchio’s introduction. And, naturally, he did not want to reject the software outright. Pinocchio was predicted to save millions in prosecution costs this year alone. Perhaps, instead, the boy did have some unusual mannerisms, as Miss Burton had submitted at the outset, which had distorted the results. If only there were some evidence to exonerate the boy, then it might give him a springboard to dive into uncharted waters but, at this moment, he had to remain in the calm and familiar harbour of recent custom and practice. He would buy himself time to reflect overnight.

  “Miss Burton, I think it prudent to allow the operator some time overnight to check the programme is working. I can rule finally on the matter tomorrow morning.”

  Judith glanced at Raymond for the first time since Pinocchio had passed judgement. He was sitting, quiet and still but distinctly unruffled; the disastrous Pinocchio results did not appear to have bothered him in the least. In fact, Judith wondered if she glimpsed a hint of smugness spread across the lower part of his face. By the time she noted it and sought to categorise it, it had
gone.

  Judith allowed her eyes to wander the courtroom, the place where she had celebrated so many past victories at a time when she had been building her career and reputation. What if there had been a software malfunction? They might still insist that Ray repeat his evidence before a “non-defective” version of Pinocchio. Or the operator might swear blind there was no problem. And then a light switched on in Judith’s head and Ray’s behaviour and demeanour began to make some sense. And she knew then that there was only one way forward, if she was going to save him.

  “Your Honour. Whilst I agree that the software must be checked,” she began hesitantly, “I believe that, given the seriousness of what is at stake here, the court should also consider another avenue for resolving matters.” Judith almost faltered but she clung to the lectern again and charged on. “I propose we call an expert to assist.”

  “An expert, Miss Burton?”

  “Certainly. Someone with an intimate knowledge of the Pinocchio software and its development, who could provide an explanation for us all of how and why we have these ‘curious’ results.”

  Judith allowed herself a further sideways peek at Arkwright’s solicitor, who was already searching widely online for a suitable expert and rapidly scribbling down names. The judge glowered at Judith. This really was most tiresome and he had thought his solution much neater. But he had to commend Miss Burton for her foresight; the answer may well not be available in the morning and where would that leave him? This way, he would get some breathing space overnight to review matters and take soundings from his colleagues and, if he made the wrong decision tomorrow, at least he could take comfort from the fact that he was backed by an expert.

  “Mr Arkwright?”

  Arkwright was listening intently to his solicitor and reading through the list of names, when the learned judge called upon him to respond. He rose unsteadily to his feet, one eye on the list the whole time.

  “Your Honour made the right decision regarding Pinocchio and I feel certain that, whilst it is prudent to make checks overnight, as Your Honour has ordered, they will not reveal any software malfunction. Clearly, the accused is guilty as charged!”