One Law For the Rest of Us

by Peter Murphy

  ‘We are such cynics,’ she said, smiling.

  Judge Rees had started a new trial, a case of fraud involving a number of managers at Smithfield Market. It was not until just after four o’clock that Geoffrey called for all parties in the trial of Father Gerrard to return to court. He brought the jury back into court only after everyone else was assembled. They looked haggard and frustrated: the men had loosened their ties, and both men and women looked dishevelled.

  Lewis, the retired barrister who served as clerk of court, stood. He wore his wig and gown, and his manner was formal. He bowed to the judge before turning to the jury.

  ‘Would the foreman please stand? Would the defendant please stand? My Lady, approximately five and a half hours have elapsed since the jury retired. Madam foreman, please answer my first question either yes or no. Has the jury reached verdicts on all four counts of the indictment on which they are all agreed?’

  The foreman was a tall, distinguished-looking woman in her fifties, dressed in a dark grey business suit. By convention, once elected foreman, she sat in the front row of the jury, in the place nearest to the bench. She turned to look at the judge.

  ‘No, my Lady.’

  Lewis bowed to the bench again and resumed his seat.

  ‘Very well,’ Judge Rees said. ‘Then, I will release you for the weekend in just a moment. Before I do, madam foreman, is there anything I can help you with, any point of law you’re unclear about?’

  The foreman smiled thinly. ‘No, I don’t think so, my Lady. We just haven’t been able to agree yet.’

  The judge nodded. ‘In that case, I will now formally release the jury bailiff from his oath to keep you together. Members of the jury, I must make it clear that all discussion of the case must stop now, and must not resume until the jury bailiff has renewed his oath on Monday morning and you are all twelve together in the jury room. Is that clearly understood?’

  She scanned the jury box. The jurors nodded.

  ‘Thank you. You are free to go. I wish you a pleasant weekend. Please be back in time to resume work at ten thirty on Monday.’

  Norris turned to Ben as the judge rose for the day.

  ‘Told you,’ he said.

  33

  ‘Anthony thinks the case is damaging chambers. He wants me to pull out of it.’

  They were at home, in their quiet upstairs flat in a huge old Canonbury house. Ben had cleared away the remains of the shrimp cocktail Jess had prepared as a starter, and watched as she took the Dover sole out of the oven and served it with new potatoes and green beans. They each carried a plate back into the dining room, and Ben poured them both another glass of the white Burgundy he had chosen to accompany it.

  ‘Damaging chambers?’ she smiled. ‘Where does he get that from?’

  ‘He thinks that if we rock the boat too much, the “establishment” – whoever they may be – will stop appointing our heads of chambers to the High Court bench, and sabotage him and Kenneth Gaskell when they apply for Silk.’ He tasted the fish. ‘This is wonderful. Thank you.’

  They raised glasses and toasted each other. She shook her head.

  ‘Ben, the only thing that will stop Anthony Norris getting Silk is Anthony Norris. Doesn’t he realise how obnoxious he is? Is he really so arrogant that he doesn’t see the effect he has on people?’

  ‘He thinks he’s God’s gift to the bar.’

  She snorted. ‘If he’s that delusional, I hope he doesn’t get Silk. That might really damage chambers. Does his practice justify Silk?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps: but he’s not in the same league as Gareth or Aubrey.’

  ‘You’d have a better chance than Anthony in a year or two.’

  Ben shrugged.

  ‘You would,’ she insisted. ‘And people know what Anthony’s like, Ben. You know what a rumour mill the bar is. People know how he treated you and Harriet when you applied to join chambers. The bar is changing, and that kind of prejudice isn’t acceptable any more. It’s bound to come up when he applies.’ She paused. ‘You’re not thinking of bowing out of the case, are you?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘That’s what the bar is supposed to be about, isn’t it,’ Ben replied, ‘representing clients who may have cases the authorities would prefer to bury? What’s the point, if we drop a case because we think it may upset somebody? We might just as well give the whole thing up. But obviously, Anthony doesn’t see it that way.’

  ‘Well, don’t listen to him,’ Jess said. ‘I feel sorry for Audrey. Let’s hope she gets a good result on Monday.

  ‘Yes.’

  Dessert was a chocolate mousse with coffee. Afterwards they sat together on the sofa in candlelight, finishing the wine.

  She kissed him. ‘I’m glad we’re married,’ she said. ‘I want it to last forever.’

  He kissed her. ‘So do I.’ He grinned. ‘But if it doesn’t, I promise you that I will never fight you over the ironing board. It’s yours.’

  She pushed his arm gently. ‘I’m being serious.’ She turned towards him and held both his hands in hers. ‘I’ve been thinking quite a bit about the future recently, and I’m just glad we’re sharing it together. We’re very lucky, you know. A lot of couples don’t make it. I see so much of that in my line of work, and I don’t want it ever to happen to us.’

  He looked at her closely. ‘Neither do I. But what’s brought this on? There’s something you’re not telling me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well?’

  She nodded. ‘Well… You know I’ve been feeling a bit queasy in the mornings for a while, now…’ She allowed her voice to trail away.

  ‘Yes… Jess, you’re not…? Are you telling me…?’

  ‘We’re going to be parents, Ben,’ she replied quietly.

  He looked at her for a long time, then took her in his arms.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Are you pleased?’

  ‘Pleased? Jess, I’m ecstatic. Are you sure?’

  She nodded. ‘I went to see the doctor a couple of days ago.’

  He held her for a long time.

  ‘We may need to look for somewhere bigger to live,’ he said.

  ‘This will be fine for a while. But we should start thinking about it.’

  ‘Have you told your parents?’ he asked.

  ‘I haven’t told anybody. You had to be the first to know. But I will, now. And we must tell your family, too.’

  ‘They’ll go crazy,’ Ben said, ‘especially my mother. You know Jewish families and children: they won’t talk about anything else. It will be all over the East End by next week.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m so glad your grandfather is still with us,’ she smiled. ‘I can just picture him now. He’ll be so happy.’

  Ben laughed. ‘Joshua’s always said that I’m the family’s Rufus Isaacs, the Jewish boy who’s destined to overcome his humble beginnings to end up as Viceroy of India – or at the very least Lord Chief Justice.’

  She smiled. ‘I know. He will be glad you’re carrying on the Rufus Isaacs line. If it’s a boy, we should call him Joshua.’

  They kissed again, then sat in silence for some time.

  ‘It’s such a responsibility,’ Ben said. ‘There’s going to be so much to think about.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jess replied, ‘including education. Before you know it, we will be the ones thinking about schools.’

  ‘Well, I know one school that’s not going to be on our list,’ Ben replied.

  34

  Monday 13 May 1974

  At ten thirty-five Judge Rees sent the jury back out to continue their deliberations, before resuming her fraud trial. At just after twelve thirty, she adjourned the fraud for an early lunch and called the case of Father Gerrard back to court.

  ‘It’s a
bout time they made their bloody minds up,’ John Caswell muttered from behind Ben. ‘What the hell are they doing in that jury room?’ Ben nodded. Norris gave them both a smug grin.

  The scene was solemnly enacted once more. Lewis bowed to the judge before turning to the jury.

  ‘Would the foreman please stand? Would the defendant please stand? My Lady, approximately seven and a half hours have elapsed since the jury retired. Madam foreman, please answer my first question either yes or no. Has the jury reached verdicts on all four counts of the indictment on which they are all agreed?’

  ‘No, my Lady,’ the foreman replied.

  Judge Rees nodded.

  ‘Very well, members of the jury. I am now going to give you a further direction. In a few moments I am going to ask you to retire again and do your best to reach unanimous verdicts on all four counts. But the time has now come when, if you are unable to reach a unanimous verdict as to any or all counts, I can, and will, accept a majority verdict. But I must first explain what majority the law allows the court to accept. The court may accept a majority verdict only if it is one on which not less than ten members of the jury agree. I’m going to say that again. The court may accept a majority verdict only if it is one on which not less than ten members of the jury agree. Is that clear to you all?’

  The jurors nodded. ‘Yes, my Lady,’ the foreman replied.

  ‘Thank you,’ the judge said. ‘Then please retire and continue your deliberations. Do your best to reach unanimous verdicts; but if you are unable to do so, the court will accept verdicts on which at least ten of you are agreed. Go with the jury bailiff, please.’

  There was silence from the jury room until four o’clock, at which time the jury asked to return to court. It took several minutes after the case of Father Gerrard had been called back on for the jury to make their way from their retiring room to the courtroom. Once again, they looked tired and tense: ties and scarves had been discarded now, and their faces were drawn and pale. John Caswell sat behind Ben and Ginny, and behind them sat, Julia Cathermole and Audrey Marshall, holding hands. No one spoke. Yet again, the formal ritual of judgment was played out.

  ‘Would the foreman please stand? Would the defendant please stand? My Lady, approximately eleven hours have elapsed since the jury retired. Madam foreman, please answer my first question either yes or no. Has the jury reached verdicts on all four counts of the indictment on which at least ten of you are agreed?’

  ‘No, my Lady,’ the foreman replied.

  Caswell cursed silently. Ben bent forward and rested his forehead briefly on the bench in front of him.

  ‘Madam foreman,’ the judge said. ‘I’m not allowed to inquire about how the jury may be divided, and you are not allowed to tell me. But let me ask you this: if I were to allow you further time to deliberate, is there a realistic – and I stress the word “realistic” – is there a realistic chance that you may be able to reach majority verdicts that the court can accept?’

  The foreman shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not, my Lady.’

  Judge Rees bit her lip. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Thank you, madam foreman. In that case, members of the jury, I discharge you from returning verdicts in this case, and you are free to go, with the thanks of the court for your work in what I know has been a difficult and distressing case. I want you to know that your work has not been wasted simply because you have been unable to agree, and in recognition of that work, I will excuse you from further jury service at this court for a period of five years. You are free to go.’

  No one spoke as the jurors filed wearily out of court.

  ‘Mr Schroeder,’ the judge said, ‘I will give the prosecution seven days in which to decide whether or not you wish to proceed with a retrial. I will extend Father Gerrard’s bail until that time.’

  35

  ‘I know we’ve all had a long day,’ Andrew Pilkington said. ‘But we only have seven days to decide whether we’re going to retry the case, and John has to give the Director time to reflect; so it would be good if we could reach a consensus this evening. Who wants to start?’

  They had gathered around the table in the conference room after court had risen for the day.

  ‘I should probably go first,’ John replied. ‘I’m sure you want to have another crack at him, Audrey. I know I do. But…’

  ‘I’m not sure I know what I want yet,’ Audrey replied quietly. ‘I’m exhausted. I feel completely deflated, numb. It feels like the roof has caved in. How am I ever going to explain this to Emily?’

  ‘I think Emily will understand,’ Ben said.

  ‘It seems like we’ve climbed an enormous hill, and now we have to do it all over again. I don’t know whether I can do this again.’

  ‘You don’t have to climb it today, Audrey,’ Julia pointed out gently. ‘And let’s not forget that they didn’t find him not guilty. He’s not off the hook, and he knows it. We have that to hang on to.’

  ‘I understand, Audrey,’ John replied. ‘It’s infuriating that he’s been able to hang up the jury, despite refusing to give evidence. But I know what the Director is going to ask me. He’s going to ask me why we think we have a better chance of convicting this man the second time round than we did this time. What’s our answer to that?’

  There was silence for some time.

  ‘Perhaps we should call an expert witness to deal with recovered memory,’ Julia suggested eventually, ‘a psychiatrist or psychologist, to explain to the jury how it works. I’m not saying they doubted your word, Audrey, because I don’t think they did. But they may have felt that they couldn’t rely on recovered memory in general. If we can reassure them about that, it might make all the difference.’

  ‘But then, the defence will call their own expert to say how dangerous it is,’ Ginny replied. ‘Apparently, even the experts don’t really know what to make of it, and if the experts can’t agree, the jury might just think: “If they don’t know, how can they expect us to know?” That might push them towards a not guilty.’

  ‘Plus,’ Andrew added, ‘it’s too defensive. I don’t want to apologise for evidence before anyone even attacks it. If I don’t have confidence in the evidence I put before the jury, why should they? If the defence called an expert first, I’d be happy to call one to hit back; but I don’t want to give the jury the impression that we’re running scared.’

  ‘Just a thought,’ Julia replied quietly.

  ‘There’s another problem, too,’ Ben said. ‘It’s a point Norris made to me the evening before the jury went out, and much as I hate to admit it, I’m afraid he may be right. Where are all the women who were abused between the 1940s and the present time? Why aren’t they lining up to make sure Gerrard goes down?’

  ‘We don’t know that it went on continuously from the 1940s,’ Ginny insisted. ‘Actually, we don’t have a very precise idea of how many women were assaulted, or when.’

  ‘It would be very strange if it was happening in the 1940s, then suddenly stopped happening, and then started to happen again spontaneously in the 1970s,’ Ben replied.

  ‘Not necessarily, Ben. The men who assaulted Emily were not the men who assaulted Audrey. The ring could well be ephemeral: it disappears from sight from time to time if interest wanes, then it becomes active again when the right people come together.’

  ‘In any case,’ Ted Phillips suggested, ‘you’re never going to get every woman who was assaulted to come forward. Woman B is the perfect example. Yes, what happened to her was terrible: but that was then, and this is now; and now she has a husband and children, and she wants to get on with her life. The last thing she wants is to get involved in a scandal. I’ve seen it happen in other cases.’

  ‘I also have a life, Ted,’ Audrey said. ‘So, are you saying I’m wrong to stand up against Gerrard? Should I be getting on with my life, too, and allowing my daughter to get on with hers? Perhaps you’re right. Perh
aps that’s exactly what I should do.’

  ‘No, of course not –’

  ‘None of us think that,’ Ben insisted. ‘Besides, it can’t be as simple as that, can it? Yes, you will always have some who don’t want to get involved. But statistically, there must be some women who want to do what Audrey’s doing – if only to protect the girls who are at Lancelot Andrewes now. Where are they?’

  ‘Maybe some of them don’t want to fight the Church,’ Steffie Walsh suggested. ‘The Church still has a surprising amount of influence in people’s lives.’

  ‘All right,’ Ben agreed. ‘Subtract some to allow for that. That still leaves us with a number greater than one. Where the hell are they?’

  ‘I think I may know where some of them are,’ Julia said quietly. ‘But there are things I can’t tell you. I’ll tell you what I can. Perhaps it will be enough.’

  Every eye turned to her.

  ‘Mary Forbes – our Woman B – told the jury that she reported the abuse to her parents during the Christmas holidays, when she was nine, and that the abuse stopped after that. What she didn’t tell the jury was that something else stopped at the same time: her parents didn’t receive a single bill for her school fees during the nine years she spent at the school after that Christmas.’

  Total silence engulfed the room.

  ‘Julia…’ Ginny said after some time, ‘that’s dynamite. If that’s true, it’s as good as an admission. They were buying the parents off.’

  ‘Someone was buying the parents off, yes,’ Julia agreed. ‘I can’t say any more about that, and I asked Mary not to say anything about it to the jury.’

  ‘You asked…? Julia, that could have…?’

  ‘There was other information I had – not from Mary – that I couldn’t risk being exposed.’ She smiled. ‘Besides, she couldn’t have told the jury about it anyway. The judge wouldn’t have allowed it.’

  ‘It was hearsay?’ Ben suggested.

  ‘Total hearsay. She was nine at the time, and knew nothing about the fees until her father told her recently on his deathbed. It’s not admissible.’