Naked Justice

by John Mortimer

  (Pause.)

  HUBERT: I’ll go and give Mother a hand. Tonight it’s moussaka à la grècque. Baked jam roll to follow…she’s done it for you special.

  (HUBERT goes. FRED gets up, mixes himself a strong whisky. He sings to himself, in a faint American accent, ‘They Can’t That Away From Me.’ KEITH enters, in a bad mood. FRED stops singing. He mixes a drink for KEITH.)

  FRED: Had a good day?

  KEITH: (Sits.) An infuriating day!

  FRED: I’ll give you a drink…

  KEITH: Thank you.

  FRED: So what was wrong? People protesting their innocence? It’s so irritating – when people don’t want to go to prison.

  (FRED hands KEITH his drink.)

  KEITH: (He drinks.) There’s a certain Mizz Cassandra Cresswell…

  FRED: Let me guess… Count One against her. She’s a woman.

  KEITH: Your powers of deduction are extraordinary.

  FRED: Count Two. She’s appearing for the defence.

  KEITH: I know exactly what she’s doing.

  FRED: Trying to get her client off? They will, you know. Given the slightest encouragement.

  KEITH: She was trying to make the jury dislike me.

  FRED: Did she have to try terribly hard?

  KEITH: It was a cheap advocate’s trick.

  FRED: Because you’re naturally so lovable?

  KEITH: Because her man’s clearly guilty.

  FRED: A man? He’s a youth, a teenager. Perhaps…a child.

  KEITH: A friend of yours?

  FRED: (Gets up and pours himself another whisky.) Unfortunately not. I saw him as they led me down a passage. Towards the building contracts. The door of your court had been left open. You were graciously acknowledging the servile bows of the legal profession. I caught a glimpse of a boy in the dock. He looked…amazed. As though he were an explorer who had come upon a strange tribe performing some obscure ritual…

  KEITH: A boy? A killer!

  FRED: He’s innocent. Until the jury come back and find him guilty.

  KEITH: That’s a legal fiction!

  FRED: Call it an act of faith.

  KEITH: That’s all it is.

  FRED: What sort of faith would you prefer? Original sin? Damnation at birth? The presumption of guilt?

  KEITH: They say he can’t read. (Pause.) I suspect he’s a liar.

  FRED: Even liars tell the truth occasionally. It’s for the prosecution to prove he’s lying.

  KEITH: (Sarcastic.) Uncle Fred. I’m enormously grateful to you for teaching me the basic principles of English law.

  FRED: That’s a lie.

  KEITH: What?

  FRED: You’re not grateful to me at all!

  KEITH: You can be extremely irritating!

  FRED: Now you’re telling me the truth.

  KEITH: Anyway. Mizz Cresswell…

  FRED: Who decided to ditch you?

  KEITH: She’ll live to regret it. (He stands.) I’m going to get that jury on my side.

  FRED: And I know how you’ll do it.

  KEITH: How?

  FRED: Obvious, old sport. You’re going to start buttering them up.

  (KEITH stands still for a moment. Looks at FRED.)

  KEITH: You know. I think you’re right…

  (Suddenly, unexpectedly, he smiles. He goes, passing ELSPETH on her way in.)

  ELSPETH: He looks happy.

  FRED: Very happy…suddenly.

  (She goes to pour herself a drink.)

  ELSPETH: Back in sole possession of his loo seat.

  FRED: Oh, better than that.

  ELSPETH: It can’t be the thought of dinner…?

  FRED: Wendy’s moussaka? I don’t think so. In fact that’s quite likely to wipe the smile off his face. No. He’s looking forward to tomorrow morning.

  ELSPETH: His murder?

  FRED: That’s right. Keith’s murder. He’s remembered how to kill the defence.

  ELSPETH: (She turns to look at him.) How’s that?

  FRED: He’s going to charm the jury. Have you ever seen Keith being charming?

  ELSPETH: Has anyone?

  FRED: Oh, I have. Absolutely terrifying. It’s likely to strike terror into the heart of the bravest defender.

  (Light change. As FRED and ELSPETH go, light comes up on BYRON’s trial, with KEITH presiding. CASSANDRA and DAWLISH take their places. KEITH is leaning forward, doing his best to be charming and flattering to the jury/audience.)

  KEITH: Members of the jury. I do hope you’re comfortable. This courtroom’s not too stuffy for you? It’s acceptable, is it? Otherwise I can ask the usher to adjust the thermostat. And I hope your sandwiches were fresh and…appetising. If you have any problem at all with your sandwiches, I do hope you’ll let the jury bailiff know. Then I shall attend to the matter personally. (Pause.) As we go through this trial together, you may have heard me interrupt Counsel from time to time, and you might have thought… (Smiles.) ‘Why does his Lordship keep on interrupting?’ Well. Just let me say this. I have only been anxious to make sure that the vital points are clear to you. We have two barristers here. Mr Marston Dawlish and Miss… er…Cresswell. But they don’t have to decide this case. Nor do I. It’s your case, members of the jury. Please remember that. You are by far the most important people in this room!

  SWIVER: (To CASSANDRA.) What’s he up to?

  CASSANDRA: Buttering up the jury. The creep!

  KEITH: (To the jury/audience.) So, members of the jury.

  Let us, you and I together, sit quietly and listen to the evidence. After that, I’ll have the great pleasure of speaking to you again. Oh, and please do remember. Send me a message if you have the slightest trouble on the question of sandwiches. Yes, Mr Marston Dawlish.

  DAWLISH: (Rises.) I’m grateful to your Lordship.

  (He turns to the witness box, where MR BREADWELL is now standing. He is a fortyish, stressed teacher at a comprehensive school.)

  George Henry Breadwell. Did you teach the defendant in his last year at his secondary school, the Harold Wilson Comprehensive?

  BREADWELL: I did, my Lord… Until he left us.

  DAWLISH: And when he left you, could he read?

  BREADWELL: We certainly aim to equip our pupils with the basic skills of literacy and numeracy…

  DAWLISH: In the case of Byron Johnson, did you succeed?

  BREADWELL: My Lord. We live in difficult times. So many inspections. So many changes. We have tests to

  see how we’ve done in tests and targets to discover how we’re meeting targets. It’s very hard to concentrate on an individual pupil and…

  KEITH: (Impatient.) Never mind about all that. You were asked a simple question. Could the young man in the dock read when he left school?

  BREADWELL: I believe so… Yes.

  KEITH: (Making a note.) Yes. I believe so…

  DAWLISH: It’s fair to say the records show that he had some difficulty at primary school?

  KEITH: That question shows the fairness one would expect of you, Mr Marston Dawlish.

  BREADWELL: Reports were made on him and he was sent to an educational psychiatrist. When he left primary school, his reading was entered at Level Two.

  KEITH: How many levels are there?

  BREADWELL: Four. Level Four is the top, my Lord.

  DAWLISH: And he was Two?

  BREADWELL: Yes.

  KEITH: So he wasn’t bottom of the class. As we said in our day, didn’t we, members of the jury? (Smiles at the jury.) I’m sure none of you ever deserved that title!

  (Faint laugh from the jury.)

  DAWLISH: After that he had another five years of schooling. Are you satisfied that he was basically literate when he left school?

  BREADWELL: I think he was. Yes…

  (DAWLISH sits.)

  KEITH: (Making another note.) ‘I think he was. Yes.’ Have you any questions, Miss Cresswell?

  CASSANDRA: (Rising.) A few, my Lord. Mr Breadwell. The Harold Wilson is not one of the most success
ful schools, is it?

  BREADWELL: It’s in…a difficult area. And as I was trying to explain, there’ve been so many changes and inspections…

  CASSANDRA: And your school has had a bad inspectors’ report?

  BREADWELL: We’ve tried to put a few things right since then, but…

  CASSANDRA: Did it become known as a ‘sink school’?

  BREADWELL: I’ve heard that said about us, yes.

  CASSANDRA: So, are you reluctant to admit that you might have failed to teach one of your pupils to read? They might shut you down…

  KEITH: Miss Cresswell. Are you suggesting this witness is committing perjury?

  CASSANDRA: (Airily.) No, my Lord. Only that he’s making the best of a bad job. (To BREADWELL.) Isn’t it a fact that a significant number of pupils leave school unable to read? Are you sure that Byron Johnson wasn’t one of those?

  BREADWELL: I don’t think he was.

  KEITH: (Heavy sigh.) He’s told us that, Miss Cresswell.

  CASSANDRA: But he hasn’t told us this. Isn’t Level Two where all children who can’t read without assistance are put automatically?

  BREADWELL: (Reluctantly.) That’s so. Yes…

  CASSANDRA: So when he left primary school, he couldn’t read without help?

  KEITH: Miss Cresswell! He had another five years’ schooling!

  CASSANDRA: Oh. I’m so glad your Lordship reminded the jury of that. I’m extremely grateful to your Lordship.

  KEITH: (Angry.) Miss Cresswell!

  CASSANDRA: Five years later, how did Byron do in his GCSEs?

  BREADWELL: He didn’t.

  CASSANDRA: Didn’t?

  BREADWELL: He didn’t do them.

  CASSANDRA: How did that come about?

  BREADWELL: (Sighs.) He wasn’t about at the time.

  CASSANDRA: Was he frequently absent?

  BREADWELL: Yes. Apparently. There were a good many calls to the mother. There’s a note that he sometimes stayed away to help in the restaurant… At others…

  CASSANDRA: He just stayed away! And when he did turn up…what do your records show?

  BREADWELL: He was noisy in class. Inattentive. A short concentration span. But likeable when he was there.

  (CASSANDRA picks up a piece of paper, reads from it.)

  CASSANDRA: ‘I understand that I do not have to say anything, but that it may harm my defence if I don’t mention, when questioned, something which I later rely on in court…’

  KEITH: The start of your client’s confession statement! The jury will remember that extremely well, Miss Cresswell.

  (He looks meaningfully at the jury.)

  CASSANDRA: Could Byron have read it, Mr Breadwell?

  BREADWELL: (Hesitant.) That’s a difficult one…

  CASSANDRA: You mean, a difficult one for him to read…?

  BREADWELL: I think… He might have needed some help.

  CASSANDRA: And we know from the Police Inspector’s evidence, that he got no help at all. Yes. Thank you, Mr Breadwell.

  (She sits. DAWLISH rises, a paper in his hand.)

  DAWLISH: Mr Breadwell. Miss Cresswell has read out a rather complicated part of Byron’s confession statement. May I read out a simpler sentence… ‘I stabbed Winston three times. I think I got him in the chest and twice in the stomach. I threw away the knife.’ Now then, Mr Breadwell. Could Byron have read that?

  (Pause.)

  BREADWELL: I believe he could.

  DAWLISH: Could he… Yes or no?

  BREADWELL: Well. I would say… Yes.

  KEITH: (Making a note.) ‘I would say…yes.’ (He smiles at the witness for the first time.) Thank you, Mr Breadwell. (He smiles at the jury.) Members of the jury. It’s a little early, but perhaps you’d like to take your coffee break now?

  (Lights fade on the court.)

  (Lights come up on the lodgings. FRED is asleep. We hear voices at the door. FRED wakes. HUBERT ushers RODDY in.)

  RODDY: I called in to see Elspeth.

  FRED: She’s having a bath. A ceremony of cleansing. She feels the need of it constantly. (Pause.) You and Keith, you must have enjoyed talking about old times…

  RODDY: We were at Saint Tom’s together…

  FRED: Yes, of course! Just reminiscing?

  RODDY: That sort of thing.

  FRED: Happy days, were they?

  RODDY: I enjoyed them.

  FRED: And so did Keith, apparently. He must have found you totally fascinating…

  RODDY: Perhaps. (Modestly.) I suppose I had a certain boyish charm.

  FRED: I suppose you did. You’re still boyish, of course. Perhaps less charming. (Pause.) What did you want Keith to do for you?

  RODDY: What do you mean?

  FRED: Nothing at all?

  RODDY: (Innocently.) I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.

  FRED: ‘Honestly.’ The word that always precedes a thundering lie. Let me make a suggestion…

  RODDY: If you like…

  FRED: I don’t like. I feel it’s my duty to protect a defenceless judge.

  RODDY: Keith? Defenceless?

  FRED: Well. Perhaps not quite as defenceless as you hoped. Now, let me think. Ah, yes. There’s a solicitor in this town. A pillar of society. Chairman of the Rotary. Steward at the races. In line for Mayor. And he’s been raising loans on empty and abandoned houses.

  RODDY: There’s been a lot about that in the local rag…

  FRED: And suppose this ingenious lawyer, feeling a little lonely, wants a companion in the frame. Perhaps a crooked accountant?

  RODDY: (Looks at him, worried.) You’re trying the case?

  FRED: Thank you, Roddy. But no. No, I’m not trying it. You were right. Keith was the judge for you to blackmail. He’s doing the crime up here.

  RODDY: (Outraged.) For me to what?

  FRED: What would you rather call it? Perverting the course of justice? Demanding decisions with menaces? I could still draft an indictment.

  RODDY: Keith’s not going to complain!

  FRED: But I might. And you can’t put the screws on me, you know. I can’t go to sleep now without counting my sexual experiences. Some regrettable, many foolish, some miraculous. So far as I remember, you never figure on the list. I never slept with you in a bed which smelt of another girl…

  RODDY: Keith told you?

  FRED: Not a word. He has a certain modesty.

  RODDY: How do you know?

  FRED: I have a good deal of trouble with my back…

  RODDY: What’s that got to do with it?

  FRED: Don’t worry your pretty head about that, Roddy. Take it from me. Your ‘reminiscences’ were heard by a most reliable witness. Another word from you on the subject to a living being and I’ll be delighted to hand my evidence in at the local nick… I can’t imagine any judge taking a favourable view.

  (Pause. RODDY looks at him.)

  RODDY: (Shocked.) That’s blackmail!

  FRED: Of course. Your special subject.

  (ELSPETH enters.)

  ELSPETH: (To RODDY.) Hubert told me you were here.

  FRED: Goodbye, Roddy. I don’t suppose you’ll be staying for dinner.

  (FRED goes.)

  RODDY: Why did he say that?

  ELSPETH: You never know. With Fred.

  (Pause.)

  RODDY: Do you think he fancies you?

  ELSPETH: Would you mind?

  RODDY: (Avoiding the question.) Quite honestly, Elspeth…

  ELSPETH: What?

  RODDY: Things haven’t panned out quite as well as I expected.

  ELSPETH: How surprising…

  RODDY: I’m sorry to disappoint you… I mean, I came to talk to you about…what I suggested yesterday.

  ELSPETH: (Moves away from him.) A cottage! Roses round the door! Dogs! I don’t want to hear another word about your sexual fantasies.

  RODDY: I’m glad you said that.

  ELSPETH: Are you really?

  RODDY: It makes it a bit easier.

 
ELSPETH: And you do like things to be made easy.

  RODDY: I’m afraid all that I said. About the cottage and…

  ELSPETH: The dogs!

  RODDY: And, well, marriage… It’s off the menu for the moment.

  ELSPETH: Thank God for that!

  RODDY: You mean…?

  ELSPETH: I mean – at least things are back to normal.

  RODDY: I’m afraid there’s a bit of a bad patch ahead.

  ELSPETH: That’s exactly what I mean…

  RODDY: So if… I don’t know…if you still have any idea…

  ELSPETH: Of course I have!

  RODDY: Like…what, exactly?

  ELSPETH: Like. I’ll take you out to a Thai dinner. My clerk recommends the ‘Midnight Garden’.

  RODDY: I think that’s an absolutely splendid scheme.

  ELSPETH: Provided you promise me…

  RODDY: Promise?

  ELSPETH: Not to say anything serious. Just smile a lot. And tell small lies. You can manage that, can’t you?

  RODDY: No problem.

  ELSPETH: See you then, in half an hour.

  (RODDY goes, passing FRED who is coming back into the room.)

  FRED: You’re going out?

  ELSPETH: For a Thai dinner.

  FRED: With your friend?

  ELSPETH: Who else?

  FRED: The amusing accountant…

  ELSPETH: Of course.

  FRED: I’m afraid you might find he’s…not quite so amusing.

  ELSPETH: I know. He keeps prattling on about marriage and roses round the door and…

  FRED: I don’t mean that exactly.

  ELSPETH: I’m glad. I thought I’d cured him of all that.

  FRED: It’s just that… I don’t think he’s an altogether reliable character.

  ELSPETH: (Delighted.) That’s better. That’s what I want to hear.

  FRED: Not just unreliable. Not simply charmingly irresponsible, but…

  ELSPETH: Unscrupulous?

  FRED: Yes.

  ELSPETH: A really bad hat?

  FRED: So my sources tell me.

  ELSPETH: Who are your sources exactly?

  FRED: I’m not at liberty to disclose…

  ELSPETH: You meant that there’s a skeleton in his cupboard?

  FRED: And even emerging, from time to time, from the closet. With a considerable rattle.

  ELSPETH: You make him sound rather interesting. I’ll go and get changed for dinner. Thank you, Uncle Fred. Talking to you always does me a power of good.

  (She kisses him and goes, as she does so.)