‘Play it by the book, son,’ said Stefan. ‘Just do what you have to do and we’ll get you out of here.’ He turned to DI Kennedy. ‘Hey, you,’ he said, pointing his finger. ‘You can’t question him until he has a lawyer. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Do you have a lawyer?’
‘No. Never needed one. But we’ll get one.’
‘We can help you find one, if you would like us to.’
‘No, thanks; we would not like you to. We don’t need any help from you. We’ll find someone for him.’ He turned to Rico. ‘Just hang on. We’re going home now and we’re going to find the best lawyer around. Nothing but the best. That’s what you’ll get.’
Rico’s parents left and he was taken to a cell accompanied by four uniformed officers. Outside the cell they took the laces out of Rico’s shoes, and the belt from his trousers. For the first ten minutes he stood in the centre of the cell and looked around. On the ceiling he saw more small black balls containing cameras, and as he scanned the cold, grey concrete walls he wondered how long such walls would surround him. To the left of him there was a toilet, and to the right of him there was a slab that protruded from the wall, with a pillow-shaped hump. It took him a minute to realise it was a bed. He went over to lie down, but when he put his head on the ‘pillow’ the smell of the toilet opposite the bed overcame him and he stood up immediately. He shook his head and exhaled through his mouth and went back and stood in the middle of the cell. There he stood for over an hour before the cell door opened and he was led away to another room.
This room was a little more comfortable than all the other rooms he had seen. The walls had posters advertising volunteering groups, mental health organisations, dyslexia organisations, domestic violence helplines and drug addiction helplines. He was told to sit down on one of the three leather chairs that were placed around a desk, and he was left alone. Two minutes later a young, smartly dressed black man entered. In one hand he was carrying a small computer case, in the other a grey folder. He walked straight up to Rico and reached over the desk to shake his hand.
‘Hello, Rico. My name’s Jackson Jones. I’ve been asked to represent you. Is that OK with you?
He was polite and gently spoken, but Rico was cautious.
‘Did the police send you?’
‘No. I can assure you that the police have not sent me. I received a phone call from your father, Mr Stefan Federico. Can I sit down?’
‘Of course.’
Jackson Jones sat on a chair to the side of Rico. He took his computer out of its case and put it on the table. He opened his folder and took out some papers that he also placed on the table.
‘You are now going to be interviewed. I will be here with you all the time, but it’s really important that you understand what your rights are. If you feel that you don’t want to answer a question, or that you can’t answer a question, simply say “no comment.” If you don’t understand a question, just ask for the question to be repeated. Don’t feel intimidated by the jargon; if for any reason you are confused, refer to me. Like I said, I will be here all the time, and I’m here for you. If I feel that a question is unnecessary, unreasonable or unfair, I will intervene. Is that all clear?’
‘Yes,’ replied Rico. Jackson’s confidence helped ease Rico’s confusion. The future was still unsure, but at least now he had someone on his side who knew the law.
Jackson Jones left the room and called in DI Kennedy. The officer entered, sat right in front of Rico and put a CD recording device on the table. He turned it on, and as soon as Jackson Jones sat down the officer started his questioning. For the records he stated his name, the time and date, then addressed Rico.
‘We have reason to believe that you, possibly with the help of others, delivered a bomb to Lloyd House police headquarters. The bomb had a timer that was set to go off at a given time, and it did, killing nine people and seriously injuring many others. But we’ll come to that in a while. First, can you tell me what your religion is?’
Jackson Jones intervened straight away. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any reason for you to know my client’s religion. Is that question relevant?’
‘We believe that the people behind the bombing were religious fanatics, so it would help to know if he has any religious beliefs.’
Jackson Jones turned Rico. ‘It’s up to you if you want to answer.’
‘I’ll answer,’ said Rico. ‘My parents are Orthodox Christian, but I’ve never been to church.’
‘So being an Orthodox Christian doesn’t mean anything to you then?’ said DI Kennedy.
‘Not a thing.’
‘Is that why you converted to Islam?’
Rico’s eyes shot wide open. He fell back into the chair. ‘What? Where have you got that from? I haven’t converted to Islam.’
‘Your friend Karima Yussuf – she’s a Muslim, isn’t she?’
‘Is she?’ replied Rico.
‘You know she is. She’s a powerful girl, isn’t she? She’s got a strong will, she’s got drive and she’s got personality. Did she convert you?’
‘I’m not sure if she’s a Muslim, and she didn’t convert me. Where is she?’
‘Do you miss her?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Was she your girlfriend?’
‘No, and that’s none of your business either.’
Rico was then questioned about his love of computers, his previous arrests and his attitude towards authority. DI Kennedy’s strategy was to try to get Rico to open up about himself, but Rico was always on his guard, and although Jackson Jones looked young, he was confident and not intimidated. Rico was happy that Jackson was there to intervene.
DI Kennedy leaned back on his chair until it was on two legs, stretched, then let the chair drop back onto four legs again and rested his elbows on the table.
‘Right. You got arrested during the riots, you were taken in, and you were questioned by Detective Constable Glen Holland. You were released without charge, but you were pretty angry with DC Holland. You knew his daughter Michelle, she was in the same class as you at school; somehow you worked out when he would be at the front desk, probably using your computer wizardry, and you and your friends got together and exacted revenge. Not just on DC Holland, but on the other officers who died that day, and the whole system as you see it. That’s how it is, isn’t it, Rico? We know what you have done, we know why you have done it – so just own up and let’s get this over with. Things will work out easier for you if you make it easier for us.’
Rico was stunned. He felt as if the ground was moving below him. He took a deep breath and looked around the room. He hadn’t realised that Michelle Holland’s dad was a cop – he didn’t really know Michelle Holland – but he could see horribly clearly why the officer was thinking the way he was. DC Holland was the officer who questioned him on the night of the riots. He could see that if they thought Karima was an angry Muslim militant, and he was her boyfriend, then they would think that he had a motive. He hung his head and tried to keep calm so he could gather his thoughts and think clearly. Then he raised his head, looked straight at the officer and spoke.
‘OK. I’m going to tell you everything.’
The officer adjusted the recording device so it was closer to Rico, and smiled with satisfaction. Jackson turned to Rico.
‘I suggest that we have a moment to speak in private. You don’t have to say anything right now.’
‘No,’ said Rico. ‘I know what I’m doing. Yes, I’m guilty. I’m guilty of digital trespass, and hacktivism, and I’m guilty of keeping secrets, but I’m not guilty of terrorism. I don’t like cops, and they don’t like me, but I’m not guilty of murder or terrorism. So let’s talk. I’m ready.’
‘You really don’t have to speak,’ said Jackson urgently.
‘I want to speak,’ replied Rico. ‘I am not a terrorist and I have nothing to hide. I’m not a bad person, I’m not evil. So let’s talk.’
The officer sat back in his
chair. Jackson took notes, and Rico told the story once again. He ended by saying, ‘I’ve done some bad things, I’ve told some lies. I’ve done all kinds of stuff, but I didn’t deliver, plan, or even know about that bomb.’
Chapter 23
Free Speech
After Rico had told DI Kennedy everything he knew, he endured two hours of relentless questioning; Jackson Jones needed to intervene frequently, and the questioning only stopped once for a short break after Rico had asked for a drink of water. Rico answered all the questions as best he could; he was steadfast and not intimidated by the process. He knew that he was telling the truth. Despite everything that Rico said, the officer was still convinced that Rico, fuelled by his anger against the police and inspired by the charisma of Karima, had masterminded the bombing. The officer told Rico that they had checked hours of CCTV footage, all the telephone calls on Rico’s mobile and house phone, and conducted detailed forensic examinations of his computers and belongings, and as far as they were concerned there was absolutely no evidence of the existence of an adult called Speech. It was then that it dawned on Rico that the reason Speech didn’t carry a phone was because it would let him be traced. He began to tell the officer his thoughts when the officer interrupted him, banging the table with the side of his fist.
‘Look, Rico, we’ve looked at your computer history and we know that you hacked into your school website. Even before you supposedly ever met this Speech person you hacked into a bank, the local council, the NHS computer systems and Birmingham Airport’s website, and you did that all on your own.’
‘You’re right,’ Rico shouted back. ‘I did, but that was just me messing around, that was just me being nosy. Can’t you see that I’ve been set up?’
‘You haven’t been set up. You’ve done the setting up!’ shouted DI Kennedy.
‘No, I’ve been set up!’ Rico shouted.
‘You set it up, and we’re going to prove it,’ said the officer even louder.
Jackson threw his pen onto the table. ‘That’s it. I suggest we have a break. I need to consult my client.’
‘Very well,’ said DI Kennedy, standing up and walking out. ‘Twenty minutes.’
When the officer had left, Rico burst out.
‘I’m sorry if I’m not doing this properly, but I just want to get it all out. I’ll tell them all they want to know, because I know if they get Speech this nightmare will all be over.’
‘I understand,’ said Jackson. ‘However, I have to tell you that the protocol is that you simply answer questions that you are asked and don’t just offer up information. But I understand this is very emotional for you.’
‘That’s right. It’s emotional, and I just want it to be over with.’
‘Are you happy to carry on with the interview?’ asked Jackson.
‘I wouldn’t call it happy, but I want to carry on.’
‘OK,’ said Jackson. ‘As you say, but I won’t let them carry on too long.’
‘What do you think will happen?’ asked Rico nervously.
‘It’s difficult to tell. They’ll probably charge you with some computer crime so they can hold you and continue investigations.’
Rico thought for a moment. ‘Well, that might give them time to find the truth.’
There was a pause. Rico took a good look at Jackson and then asked, ‘So are you an expert in this thing then?
‘What thing?’
‘This terrorism thing.’
‘Not really,’ replied Jackson. ‘When I was at school I saw a lot of injustice, especially with young people. I saw how kids could be abused, exploited and misrepresented. I even saw a teacher get killed, and I wanted to do something about it, so I studied law. I now specialise in defending young people.’
‘So how do you know my dad then?’ asked Rico.
‘I didn’t. Not until today,’ replied Jackson. ‘I’m a friend of your sister, Lola. We studied at the same university. She called your dad, your dad said he needed a lawyer, so he called me, and I came straight away. By the way, Lola asked me to say hello. She said she’ll come to see you as soon as she can.’
Rico looked around the room as he tried to put it all together in his head. Then a uniformed officer put her head around the door and said, ‘Can you finish up, please?’
‘We’re just finishing now,’ said Jackson.
DI Kennedy entered the room, sat down on his chair and turned on the recorder. Another officer stood at the door.
‘Right,’ said DI Kennedy. ‘The good news is, I’m going to end this interview. The bad news,’ he continued, ‘is that you are going to be charged.’
Rico’s eyes widened in shock and darted from the officer to Jackson, and from Jackson back to the officer.
Jackson spoke. ‘I take it that these charges relate to computer crime.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the officer. ‘Rico Federico, I am formally charging you with the murder of Detective Constable Glen Holland, and committing an act of terrorism.’
‘What?’ shouted Rico.
‘This is outrageous,’ said Jackson.
‘I’m afraid this is the way it is,’ said DI Kennedy. ‘We have consulted the Crown Prosecution Service, and they have agreed with our analysis that there is enough evidence to charge. I have to say at this point that there is a high possibility that further charges will follow.’
Rico could not take his eyes from the officer. He felt like screaming, he felt rage, he felt anger, but all he could do was stare, panicking, as DI Kennedy turned off his recorder and began to leave the room.
As he reached the door he turned back and said, ‘You’ve got ten minutes.’
Rico’s eyes stayed on the door after it had closed behind the officer. Jackson gave him time to gather his thoughts. Rico shook his head slowly and turned to Jackson.
‘So what happens now?’
‘They’ll keep you in custody until you appear in court, and I will start preparing your defence.’
‘You’d better go then,’ said Rico despondently.
Jackson gathered his papers together, put his laptop in its case. He stood up and looked down at Rico, who was now sitting hunched with his head bowed.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Jackson. ‘We’re going to do the best we can for you.’
‘When will I see you again?’ asked Rico.
‘I will come back tomorrow and we can talk about the individual charges and how you choose to plead. Then on Monday morning you’ll be in court. It will be a very short court hearing, but I’m going to try to get bail for you. It will be difficult, but I’ll try.’
He reached forward and shook Rico’s hand.
‘Thanks. Thanks a lot,’ said Rico.
Jackson picked up his papers and laptop and left. Rico gazed at the walls surrounding him. He was alone with his many thoughts racing around his mind.
Chapter 24
Friends Disunited
Rico was not alone for long; soon DI Kennedy entered the room with another officer. An officer Rico had not seen before. They were both smiling in a way that made Rico feel uneasy.
‘Right, let’s take you away.’
Rico stood up and they took him by his arms and led him towards the cells – but they walked past the cells and came to the door of another room. The new officer unlocked the door, tapped Rico on his shoulder and said, ‘Wait in here for a while. It’s much better than those cells.’
Rico walked in. He thought the room was empty, but then he saw Karima sitting on the floor in a corner.
‘Karima!’ Rico shouted.
Karima didn’t say anything; she just stood up and walked towards Rico. As she walked towards him, Rico opened his arms to hug her, but she hit him in his left eye with a punch so fast Rico did not see it coming. He saw stars. As he cupped his face in his hands he felt a kick to his ribcage that threw him to the ground. Rico curled up into a ball and Karima sat on him and began pounding his head and back with her fists, shouting, ‘You supposed to be my friend,
brov. What you been saying about me? What kind of rubbish you been telling the cops, hey? Hey? You supposed to be my friend.’
Rico was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t find the energy to speak. He had neither air in his lungs nor space to move. He could not match Karima’s kick-boxing, but he also knew she could knock him out if he just stayed down and did nothing. Using all the strength he had, he forced himself to his feet with Karima still going at him, but he managed to stagger into a corner and shout.
‘What have I done?’
Karima stood back. ‘You know what you’ve done.’ She then delivered a kick to his leg that made him want to go back down, but by sheer will he stayed on his feet.
‘Karima – stop, listen. I haven’t said anything,’ Rico pleaded.
Karima, still in kick-box stance as if waiting to strike, shouted, ‘So since when did I convert you to Islam then?’
‘I never said that – and you know I wouldn’t.’
‘And when did I ask you about how to make bombs then?’
‘I didn’t say that, Karima, either. Honestly.’
‘I told you I’m not interested in burning anything up any more.’
‘I know. I know. Honestly, I didn’t say anything about that stuff.’
They looked at each other. Karima’s eyes were red and wet with tears of anger. Rico’s eye was purple and already beginning to swell.
‘Karima,’ said Rico, with one hand covering his eye and the other pointing towards the ceiling. ‘Can’t you see? Look around you. Cameras are everywhere. This is a set-up. They put us together to see if we would start talking.’
Karima looked up and around at the cameras on the ceiling. Rico continued.
‘Why would they put us together? Why wouldn’t they come and stop us from fighting?’
Karima looked at the pitiful state that Rico was in – not just at the damage that she had done to him, but at his broken spirit. She then went back to sit in the corner and said, ‘I think you’re right. I’m sorry, brov. I’m just messed up at the moment. Nothing makes sense.’
Terror Kid Page 10