“How many times a week do the defendants attend your club, Mr Rocco?” asked Jeremy.
“It varies. Pretty much every week though; sometimes just once, sometimes a couple of nights. Sometimes on Wednesday afternoons as well.”
“And is the club doing well? Are you busy most of the time?”
“All the time, actually. Manic most nights. Usually four on each table and punters waiting.”
“And how many tables do you have?”
“Four snooker and six pool – ten all together.”
“So that’s forty people playing and – say – forty more waiting. Would that be about right?”
“Yes that’s …”
“And I assume you get quite a lot of custom from people just there to have a few drinks – I mean, not playing at all?”
“Yes, some people just use it as a pub. There’s a large lounge area as well.”
“So at any one time you might have – would you say – over a hundred people in the club?”
“Easily …but why…?”
“Well, Mr Rocco, it seems to me that the defendants could only ever be a couple of people in a large crowd during their one or two visits a week, rather than people you could observe closely enough and for long enough to make a statement about their character. Isn’t that right?”
Jeremy glanced across at Lorna.
“Well, you get a sort of feel for who’s okay and who isn’t,” said the witness.
“A sort of feel,” Jeremy repeated, slowly, shaking his head. “Thank you, Mr Rocco, no further questions.” He went back to his seat, crossing his arms.
As Antonio Rocco left the stand, Tom sat, head in hands, staring down at his feet, thinking just how light-weight such a defence was sounding against the volume of hard evidence which had gone before.
“Just one more witness, m’lord,” said Lorna.
Tom’s head shot up and his eyes bulged in disbelief as the name was called out. He looked angrily across at Daniel who had already turned and was waiting to receive his glare. The lawyer nodded to him, vigorously, trying to convey as much assurance as possible. A tall good-looking young man in an expensive sports jacket and designer jeans entered the court room, turning to Jack and Jason with a grim smile and a slight raising of his right hand in a thumbs-up gesture. He took the stand and then the oath.
“State your name, please.”
“Mickey Kadawe.”
“And could you tell the court your address and occupation?”
“Manston Grange off Grindalls Road in Woking. And I’m the manager-stroke-agent for a number of professional and semi-professional rock artists and bands, including Lilli Bo-Peep, Abattoir Ratts and Chick Eater.”
“A very impressive client list, Mr Kadawe, if I may say so,” said Lorna. “You know why you are here today – to provide an insight into the lives of Jack and Jason. I am fully aware of your close friendship with both men, but I remind you that you are under oath and should not try to embroider the truth for their benefit. I believe, as I’m sure you do, that the pure and simple truth is all that is necessary to convince the court of their good character.” Mickey nodded and smiled at Lorna who continued. “Could you describe in your own words how you come to know the defendants, starting with Jason?”
“Sure, I’ve known Jay for nearly nine years, since we were both in the same junior school, although in different years. Most of the kids were white and we just sort of came together with some of the other black kids. I always thought of myself as like a big brother to him. And we kept in touch after he got a scholarship for Bishop’s and even after … well … even after I left school.”
“Tell the court why you left the school, Mr Kadawe.”
“I was sent to a young offenders’ institute after someone got hurt in a fight I was in. I was fifteen-years-old and it followed a number of other convictions for things like theft, disruptive behaviour, fighting – just normal kids stuff, really. I sort of fell apart after my dad went back to South Africa.”
“And following your detention?”
“Well, I guess it did the trick. I’ve not been in trouble since then – that’s nearly five years now.”
“Thank you for being honest with the court, Mr Kadawe. And during the nine years you have known him, you have always been close to Jason?”
“Yes – and quite literally now, in fact. He hangs out at my house quite a lot – when he’s not at college. We play pool; just chill out together really, like you do. And I know he’s there when I’m away, because my work takes up a lot of time now.”
“And has he ever been in trouble during the time you’ve known him?”
“Not once. I don’t think he’d know how to get into trouble if he wanted to. He’s absolutely squeaky clean – probably been a good influence on me.” He smiled again at Lorna, who gave a little laugh.
“And Jack, how did you come to meet him?”
“Well, through Jason. One night, we all ended up – the three of us – in an alley together facing off a bunch of guys who were getting at Jay for some reason,” he glanced up at Katey in the gallery. “Anyway, we saw them off, and after that me and Jack have been best buddies really. That happened around eighteen months ago, I guess.”
“And do you see much of Jack as well?”
“Yes, he stays over at the house at least a couple of nights a week, sometimes three or four, so I see him probably more than I do Jason.”
Tom sucked in a breath causing Mags and Katey to look briefly across at him.
“So you see both of them regularly?”
“Just about every day of every week when I’m not working away.”
“And you would know if either man was dealing in banned substances – hard drugs?”
Mickey laughed. “It’s unbelievable! The whole thing is a farce. I doubt if Jack has ever had a single criminal thought in his entire life. There is absolutely no way he – or Jason – could have done this. Never in a million years.”
“Thank you, Mr Kadawe.”
Jeremy sprang to his feet.
“Mr Kadawe, I bet you of all people, with your background, never in a million years expected to appear as a character witness for the Defence in a court of law. But it’s happened nonetheless, hasn’t it?”
Mickey remained silent.
“Can you remember how many times you were charged with offences between the ages of twelve and fifteen?”
“No, it’s all in the past.”
“Twenty-seven times, Mr Kadawe, I’m not surprised you can’t …”
“Master Kadawe, to be accurate.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“Well, at the time I was Master Kadawe, not Mister. It was a long time ago. I was just a kid.”
“And can you remember what those charges were?”
“Not all of them individually. I’ve just given some examples. Ancient history was never one of my best subjects.”
“Burglary, mugging, threatening behaviour – to two of the teachers at your school, in fact, on separate occasions – vandalism, assault, stealing a car – twice, supplying drugs – at school! Shall I go on?”
“Please do, it’s all water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned. Oh, and by the way, I didn’t steal a car twice, I stole two different cars.”
There was some laughter in the courtroom and Miles Pendle had a quiet smile behind his hand.
“Well, I’m glad you think this is amusing, Mr Kadawe. If I was either of the defendants I’d be very concerned if you were the best person my counsel could find to give me a character reference.” He turned to the jury. “I can only assume that the Defence feels that the witness’s presence in that role might generate some sympathy on behalf of the accused. That is the only reason I can think of for getting him here.”
Mickey’s composure suddenly gave way to anger “Look this is fucking stupid!”
Miles Pendle was quick to step in.
“Mr Kadawe, I will not stand for that sort of language
in my court! I will refrain from taking any action because of your behaviour so far in the face of the Crown’s goading. But I will not allow a repeat, do you understand?”
“Yes, I apologise, your honour,” said Mickey. “But what I mean is that the whole thing is ridiculous. You don’t know these guys. Jack is the biggest goody-two-shoes in the world.”
“Mr Kadawe…” the judge again.
“I bet he’s never had an overdue library book. If he spit in the street, he’d turn himself in. And Jason. They wouldn’t know cocaine from cocoa.”
“Mr Kadawe! You will stop right now. You are here to answer the specific questions put to you by counsel; that’s all.”
“But he hasn’t asked me anything about Jack and Jason. It’s been all about me. Hey, I admit I’ve been a bad boy in the past, okay? But these guys? No way!”
“Your honour,” Jeremy said. “I do think this witness should be removed if he can’t…”
“M’lord,” Lorna interrupted him, “Mr Kadawe has been called as a character witness for the defendants and, whereas, of course, I cannot condone his indiscretion, I think we can recognise his frustration at the questions being put to him by the Prosecution.”
“We have every right to challenge a witness’s suitability to provide an assessment of another person’s behaviour and character. And it seems reasonable to assume that a witness’s own personal history – recent or ancient – would have a huge impact on what he or she regards as acceptable behaviour and good character. It is for the Defence to draw out the witness’s views and for the Prosecution to examine their validity. And I suggest, m’lord, that is precisely what has just transpired. And, furthermore,” he added, “it mirrors exactly what the Defence attempted to do – unsuccessfully, I might add – with a number of the Crown’s witnesses earlier in the proceedings.”
“If it pleases …”
“It does not, Ms Prentiss.” Miles Pendle turned to Mickey.
“Mr Kadawe, you may stand down. Thank you for your testimony.” He turned to address the jury as Mickey left the witness stand with obvious reluctance. “Mr Forsythe is quite correct in pointing out that he is within his rights to challenge the suitability of the witness and the integrity of his testimony. However, you should not be influenced by the last witness’s outburst and use of the f-word word. It is, after all, just a word, and one which is in such common use now as to carry very little weight even as a means of emphasis. What you should concern yourself with is the sincerity and relevance of Mr Kadawe’s observations.”
He consulted some papers in front of him.
“Ms Prentiss, am I to understand that you will next be calling the defendants to take the stand?”
“That is correct, m’lord.”
Jeremy Forsythe got to his feet.
“Excuse me, your honour, but I had expected that the Defence would be calling Katey Tomlinson-Brown.”
Miles Pendle sighed.
“And why would you expect that, Mr Forsythe?”
“Well, for the same reason as the last witness was called. Someone who has been very close to both defendants, being the sister of one and the partner of the other.”
The judge transferred the question to the Defence counsel with a raising of the eyebrows.
“I shall not be calling anyone else to the stand except the defendants, m’lord.”
“Thank you, Ms Prentiss.”
Jeremy Forsythe sat down with a noisy flourish.
“The time is twelve-fifteen. I would normally call a recess for lunch at this time and reconvene in approximately one hour. However, I feel it is important that we hear from both defendants on the same day, and I do not believe we will have time this afternoon. For that reason, I am now calling an end to today’s proceedings. Please be back in court for ten o’clock prompt on Monday morning. Good afternoon.”
*
Tom pulled into the drive at Etherington Place. Mags got out of the car almost before it had stopped and walked quickly to the house. Tom ran after her, catching up just as she entered the porch. Mrs McGovern, their housekeeper, was waiting for them in the hall. Her eyes were watery and red and her whole body seemed to sag with the weight of her sadness.
“I was going to do dinner for around seven o’clock,” she said, in a shaky whisper. “But I could do lunch instead. Just something light.”
Mags shook her head.
“Not for me, thank you, Millie.”
“You must eat something. It won’t help Jack if …”
“Nothing is going to help Jack now!” Mags cried, and ran upstairs.
Millicent McGovern broke down herself, covering her face with both hands. Tom put his arms around her and held her to him.
“Everybody’s doing all they can, Millie. It’s not over yet. I’ll try to get Mags to come down, but I’ll have some lunch anyway, please. Then you can get an early finish.”
He held her until she had recovered her composure and smiled gently as she stepped away from him. He went upstairs to see Mags. She was sitting in Jack’s room on his bed, staring at the wardrobe as if the object itself was the source of all her grief.
“Darling, do come and have something to eat.”
Mags remained silent.
“Perhaps I should ask Katey to come back,” he said. “I’m sure Leila will be alright on her own and I think you need her here – we both need her.”
“Did you expect something like this?” she said, turning on him angrily.
“What do you mean?”
“You knew this was coming, didn’t you?”
“Knew what was coming? What on earth are you talking about?”
“That night before your speech to the House, you told me you were worried about the children. I asked you if it was anything to do with the NJR, and you didn’t answer me.”
“I seem to remember that I didn’t answer you because I didn’t understand the question.”
“And then the following day you announced this barbaric treatment for drug dealers – which nobody wants, anyway, it seems …”
“Just listen to what you’re suggesting, Mags! You’re not seriously accusing me of believing that Jack was dealing drugs, and then pushing for a proposal to exile drug dealers? Or is that what you’re saying?”
“It all fits, now. That’s why you didn’t answer me.”
“That’s why I didn’t understand the question!” he shouted. “Because it was based on such a ludicrous assumption! How can you believe that? Perhaps you think I made this change just to punish Jack. You know – ‘I’ll teach the little bastard. I’ll send him away for ever!’ Is that what you think of me?”
He suddenly gave way, slumping to his knees and covering his face with his hands as the tears came. She instinctively started to go to him, and then held herself back. Neither spoke for several moments while Tom struggled to recover his dignity.
“Tell me, Tom.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “Do you think he’s guilty?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. I really want to believe …”
There was another long silence as Tom finally composed himself and rose unsteadily to his feet, rubbing his eyes.
“I’d like to be alone,” said Mags.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”
“No, I mean I’d like you to move into another room. Now. This afternoon.”
Tom fought back more tears.
“If … that’s what you want.”
“It is. Until this is all over – at least.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Three days later
Week 10; Monday, 25 May…
Jack entered the courtroom alone. He was pale, hunched, lethargic in his movements and appeared lifeless and disinterested. Lorna Prentiss spoke slowly, as if explaining a difficult concept to a small child.
“Jack, the Prosecution has presented a catalogue of evidence – hard evidence – linking you with the selling of illegal drugs in and around the Woking area. This is y
our opportunity to convince this court – this jury – that what they have heard from the Crown based on that evidence is incorrect and that you are, in fact, the victim of a malicious deception. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” His reply was barely audible.
“You will need to speak up,” said Miles Pendle, “so everyone can hear what you are saying.”
“You have seen images,” continued Lorna, “allegedly of you, which were captured on security cameras in Delaware Street in Woking on a number of occasions earlier this year.” She raised her eyebrows, inviting a response. Jack remained silent, his eyes unfocused, head slightly bowed. “Can you confirm that those images were, in fact, of you?”
“Yes.” His voice was still not much more than a whisper.
“Mr Tomlinson-Brown,” said the judge, “please …”
“Yes!” snapped Jack, his head turning briefly towards him, eyes flashing. There was a buzz of surprise around the room. Lorna continued quickly.
“They showed you meeting with and talking to some people there. Can you explain what was going on?”
“No!” Jack almost shouted his response this time. Even Jeremy Forsythe looked a little uncomfortable.
“What I mean is, could you tell us what happened?”
Jack looked across at her for a few moments before answering. “I just told you, I don’t know.”
“Mr Tomlinson-Brown,” Miles Pendle boomed at him. “This is your counsel, putting your case to the jury. I strongly advise you to try and help her.”
Jack shook his head violently with a noise somewhere between a snort and a sigh. “I have no idea what’s going on,” he shouted, “so I’m not sure how I can help her.”
Lorna turned to Miles Pendle. “M’lord, could I request a brief recess whilst I speak to my client?”
“I think that’s a very good idea, Ms Prentiss. I am sure when you do you will make him understand just how critical this part of the proceedings is, although I am very surprised as to why it should be necessary to do so. Court is adjourned for thirty minutes.”
*
There was a buzz of anticipation as Jack was led back into the courtroom and Lorna stood in readiness to begin.
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