“Oh by the way Anaura, if you want to get promoted any time soon, you best start getting those shitty little drugs dealers of yours locked up” he said with a belligerent tone and a smug expression.
Anaura just nodded back with smile that was far from being a genuine one. Anaura had no interest in being promoted, especially if it meant chasing petty criminals to bulk out his detection rate to look good. And besides, contrary to what he had just said, Drayson never chased the small fish as he seemed to have a talent for hooking the big boys, almost if the evidence had fallen in his lap. In Anaura's mind his success rate didn't add up but then again, some people were just born lucky.
He turned his back on Drayson and walked away, quietly muttering the word “prick” in his British, New Zealand accent, with a part of him hoping that he would hear him; he hadn't. Without delay he rushed to his car, hoping that Laura hadn't thrown his curry in the bin.
A Very Public Hearing
Chapter Six
“This is Janet Hill reporting for the BBC from outside The Old Bailey Court House in London, where five men are standing trial for terrorist related offences. One of the men, Adam Jennings of Poland Lane, is also to stand trial for the murder of police officer, Sergeant Kevin Marriot and the attempt murder of Constable Alex Moore during what is being described as, a bungled police operation!”
“I'm pretty sure there must be something more entertaining on the TV other than the BBC news” said Liam Balham, the Firearms Unit's Inspector before he switched off the LCD screen that was on the wall of the court's police room. He knew full well that the sensationalist style of reporting that the media loved was not what the team needed to hear at that time.
The team of eleven SFO's from the operation sat in a horseshoe shape formation around the room, all deep in thought. The hearing should have been straight forward, a group of terrorists were about to commit serious atrocities but apprehended and stopped; end of. Well that's how every officer on the unit and probably everyone else in the country saw it. However it wasn't going to be simple, nor could it ever have been. A police sergeant had been murdered, an unarmed suspect had been shot dead and another police officer had been seriously injured during what, as the reporter on the TV had said, was a bungled operation. Questions had to be asked, and answered concerning why there was very little planning, what the available intelligence was, why one of the terrorist had been shot dead and another sustained appendage deforming injuries, and of course the officers favourite, defending the statement made by the defence barrister “My clients were not terrorists but victims of an over the top police operation!”. You could always count on a defence lawyer to try and turn the story back on the 'corrupt' police officers, a tactic that the media tended to adopt too. It came across as though someone in power had received one too many speeding tickets and was now hell bent on destroying the police.
Balham looked around the room. The media onslaught had really enraged him but at least the public had been supportive of them with a very different opinion from that of the media; they were scum bag terrorists who deserved to die and even mutterings of bringing back hanging! The country had spoken, they were unreservedly fed up with the terrorist threat and wanted an end to it, even if it meant using aggressive measures to achieve it. Unfortunately the public support for the police and their hatred for treasonous scum had done little to prevent the media and legal attack on the officers, namely Foster and Conan, from happening.
Conan being the tough guy who didn't care about people's opinion of him, sought counselling within weeks of the operation finishing, as he saw it, he needed help prior to facing the court as Op Barrier had been 'relatively' traumatic. He did however, always remind his colleagues that he felt no remorse for permanently disfiguring Jennings and maintained that he would have happily slotted him if the ramifications were not there. His only true regret was that he wished he had been able to get to his MP5 instead of the shotgun, the accuracy of the rifle would have meant that he wasn't just disfigured; he would be rotting in hell. After a few months he was back to his normal self, although he was beginning to become less enthused with risky work and fancied a move to the Traffic Unit, something which drew huge amounts of piss taking from the others, but Conan didn't care, it was a good role that didn't have all the constant bravado crap that went with the Firearms Unit. Once the hearing was over and done with, he would request an immediate transfer; and get it. One thing wasn't wasted on him, he was going to have to answer some difficult questions regarding his actions on that night although it would be made easier by Jones developing amnesia about the way Conan had acted towards Jennings. It was not his word against Conan's, it was obvious who the jury would believe.
For Jones there had been one comical moment when he gave evidence in the box (although it should have sent shivers up his spine) when he was asked whether he had threatened to have Jennings raped in prison. The question causing one of the jury to burst out laughing, almost having him punished for being in contempt of court. Jones response to the barrister was perfectly executed “As a copper, how would I know, or find a prisoner that would rape Jennings on my say so?” And the truth is, he wouldn't but it had made Jennings shut his pathetic weasel mouth that night. Looking back though, he kind of wished that Conan would have taken his foot out of Jennings armpit and let the little bastard bleed to death; that would never have been proved. For their involvement, Simpson, Allen, Evans, Collins and Palmer got off pretty lightly in the witness box as their line of questioning mainly revolved around the intelligence they had received and their individual involvement. And although the operation was called by the Gold Commander Superintendent and Chief Inspector Murray, their questioning seemed a little tame considering that the team would not have been there without their say so. It wasn't wasted on the unit that there was a political agenda and some scapegoats were needed; and they were not going to be command level officers. In fact, even Phelps got more of grilling for just advising Murray. It was clear that only the constables were going to be at fault that day.
Moore, still suffering from his injuries, was given the easiest time as the defence were astute enough to know that their case wouldn't be helped by trying to pin a hero's 'bloody carcass' to the witness box through. The term 'bloody carcass' was used by top flight barristers, denoting their enjoyment of destroying a witness and reducing them to a proverbial carcass in order to win their case. Even though the term was in regular use with the highly paid lawyers, the irony of it all was that it was the officers who were seen as suffering with psychopathy. And of course Jennings who was still yet to fully heal from his horrific injuries, gave his version of events which although followed the same time line as the officer's accounts, managed to paint him as the victim of the state and police brutality. It was clear from the Jury's faces that they were not buying his story, especially when a wealth of extremist propaganda, assault rifles and other assorted weapon and explosives had been found at the house. Jennings was seriously deluded if he ever believed that he would be seen as the victim and have the public's support (who wanted to hang him in Leicester square). The court case had so far run into weeks. It was mid-March, barely four months since the job, and the weather was uncharacteristically warm and humid making the airless court room unbearable.
Apart from the stress of the court case, Op Barrier had left another legacy with the unit and the wider police family. The serious nature of it and the death of a police officer meant that it was shrouded in darkness and profoundly affected a lot of people. Marriot's funeral had been and gone, a grand ceremony befitting his great personality and bravery, and although Conan and Jones had been distraught when they saw Marriot's family and the pain they were going through, they needed to move on and get back to work to shake off the grief as soon as they could. However, there was one person who hadn't been able to adjust since that night and that was Foster who had begun to struggle with his state of mind almost immediately after shooting Mahood. And when the team had attended a secre
t location to be debriefed straight after the operation, he went missing for forty minutes.
After a while of searching the large secret location, O'Keeffe found Foster in one of the upstairs toilets with a ghost like complexion, gazing into the mirror at himself as if trying to work out who it was staring back at him. O'Keeffe asked whether he was alright but Foster didn't answer and continued to stare. On the third time of asking, combined with a little shake of his shoulder, Foster spun around and faced him with a distant expression on his face that O'Keeffe put down to being the result of shock at first, however it wasn't just that and he knew deep down that something else was going on behind Foster's cold fixated eyes.
All of a sudden Foster grabbed him, breathing heavily with a severe frown and huge dilated pupils. His grip was so tight that O'Keeffe didn't know whether to punch him or yell at him. However there was something scary going on inside Foster that he knew had to be dealt with cautiously.
“Ease up mate!” O'Keeffe said.
Foster began to push him backwards until he paused and then dropped to his knees, sobbing into his hands. Shocked, O'Keeffe put his hand onto Fosters shoulder which suddenly made him spring up with a face devoid of emotion. Apart from the redness of his eyes, it was like he had never been crying.
“You OK mate, what the fuck is going on?” O'Keeffe asked in confusion.
Foster shook his head and with a shrug of his shoulders answered “Nothing!” prompting O'Keeffe to tell him that he had been missing for over forty minutes. He pondered what he had said to him with confusion before replying that he had felt sick after the command team had congratulated them on a good job done and left to get some air. He then explained how his thoughts had started to race to a degree where he felt as though the only way to stop them was to bounce his head off a wall. O'Keeffe looked back at him with a sense of profound concern whilst trying to figure out how he could have gone from a cold stare, to crying, to being back to his old self again within a space of a couple of minutes and not been aware of it; it didn't make sense.
“Why were you gone for so long though? You could have asked me to come with you.” O'Keeffe enquired.
“I guess I just wanted to get away, although I can't really remember what I was doing in here! It's strange but I don't even recall you coming in!” Foster said with an element of bafflement.
O'Keeffe, realising that his friend wasn't himself or fully aware of his surroundings, took the sensible way out “Ha ha, well you were so intent on sorting out your hair in the mirror, I guess you didn't notice me coming in!”
“What? When was I looking into the mirror? Why can't I remember any of this!” asked Foster with concern
“Ah don't worry about it mate, you've just been subjected to an inordinate amount of stress! You just need a bloody good rest and you'll be fine! Come on let's get back to the others before they send out a search party” O'Keeffe replied as the two men began to walk out of the toilets. Foster looked back at the mirror, desperately trying to remember what he had been doing in the toilets. He couldn't remember, but knew one thing for certain; he didn't feel himself.
“Bloody hell, that's me down with firearms work, I'll not go through that again” a severely perspiring Conan said as he walked back into the police room. Inspector Balham asked him why and how it had gone in the box, despite knowing that there was an obvious answer to his question from Conan's appearance. Conan recalled how he'd been questioned for over two and a half hours on what he had said to Jennings and whether he had pointed a gun to his head after shooting him. The shooting itself was barely mentioned, a perfect example of how the legal system worked in the country with the human rights of violent deranged criminals being more important than anything else; even their victims. It had not been a pleasant experience for him and his sweat soaked white police shirt was indicative of that. Conan was dead serious about being finished with the unit, over the years he'd grown weary of the politics of it all and how you could be criticised by others for a split second decision when you were under the highest level of pressure, he'd had enough. The traumatic nature of Op Barrier and the repeated nightmares that followed were something that would stay with him forever so he didn't fancy risking it happening again, Conan needed a fresh start and would leave the unit within a few weeks. Another thing that hadn't helped Conan was when he and Foster had been involved in a stand up row in the firearms unit's office after he had taken umbrage to Fosters new antagonistic and aggressive personality. Since the shooting Foster had been a changed man and although this was plain to see for everyone, no one had stepped in to talk to him, fearing that he may flare up at them. As the months rolled on, the womanising and drinking went up a few levels, he had even started to be aggressive towards his friends, including O'Keeffe. But no matter what he did, the others just saw it as him letting off steam and something that would get better with time, although underneath they knew he wasn't right. MacNeil on the other hand, who was one of the most level headed guys on the unit quietly approached him away from hearing shot of the others and asked him to open up. However Foster replied that he couldn't work out what everyone's problem was with him and that he hadn't changed, and cited that everyone else had. MacNeil had become even more concerned during the conversation when Foster had begun stating that he believed the organisation was plotting against him and how he had been considering joining the Intelligence services to become a spy. None of it made any sense.
Now sat in the police room at the court house, Foster was waiting to give his evidence, the last to do so. O'Keeffe and MacNeil had already been asked about their involvement within the bedroom where Mahood had been shot. The cross examination the pair received was mainly concerned with their own actions in the room and whether they had perceived Mahood to be an immediate threat, something which they both confirmed, citing that with the intelligence of automatic weapons and way in which Mahood burst into the room, they had honestly feared for their life.
Despite the understandable nature of why Foster had fired, Foster himself could not get it right in his head, not because he was concerned about Mahood dying, it was the flashbacks and fear that he may have been found guilty of an unlawful killing if the jury went against him. This was of course an unlikely proposition, but after most of the media attacks had been directed at him and his name had been released in the papers, Foster had begun to crack up even more from the pressure. He had by now, lost the ability to control his own mind. And despite once being a very popular member of the team, Foster was now sat alone in the corner of the room sporadically muttering to himself quietly, his extreme behaviour and aggressiveness towards his friends and colleagues had meant that even O'Keeffe had started to distance himself after Foster accused him of being a traitor and 'one of them'.
“PC Foster, they're ready for you” the female court clerk declared.
Foster acknowledged her as the others members of the team looked at him silently, trying to figure out whether he was going to crack under the pressure or not.
“I put it to you officer, that you shot Mr Mahood because you wanted the glory of killing an alleged terrorist, whether he was armed or not, and that you wanted to be famous, a national hero. And your attitude when giving evidence today has clearly shown that you have the total inability to display any sign of remorse or regret” the defence barrister protested from across the court room.
Foster with his lack of a valid or relevant answer during examination had portrayed a sense of arrogance and that his actions were cold and calculated that night. And after he was accused of trying to be a hero and the words 'alleged terrorist' being used, Foster had stared at the barrister with an intimidating expression with his blue eyes almost turning black due to his pupils excessively dilating. As a result the once overly confident barrister seemed to back down in fear as he looked at the judge for support. That, combined with Foster's persistent mutterings during questioning (that required the Judge asking him to speak up and repeat what he'd been saying under his breath) ha
d well and truly painted a very bad picture of him.
“Listen, Mahood was a deranged piece of terrorist scum who was shot because I believed at the time that he posed an immediate threat to my colleagues and me! Haven't I answered that sufficiently already?” Foster snarled which caused the judge to step in and ordered him to answer the question firmly.
After three days of being in the witness box giving evidence, Foster was well and truly done. He had spent the longest time in the box in comparison to his colleagues, which was quite an achievement considering that none of them had been quick. Foster's demeanour during the hearing had also meant that the Prosecution barrister had dragged Inspector Balham to one side to discuss his poor attitude and the problems it was creating for the case. However Balham spoke to him, his words ultimately fell on extremely deaf ears. If there could have ever been a situation where the jury would be anti-police, Foster had tried his damned hardest to create it, without quite being fully aware he was doing so.
The Prosecution laid down their case, the defence theirs, the terror suspects had been examined and examined again and the officers had been publicly torn apart in an attempt by the defence to create compassion for their clients. The Judge had heard enough and adjourned for the day in preparation of a verdict the following day.
“Right, well we can't go back to the hotel and just mope, let tomorrow take care of itself. It's been a rough couple of weeks so let’s go for something to eat and drink. Anthony that means you too mate!” O'Keeffe said trying to make light of the situation and hoping that Foster would get back to being himself now that the stress that lead up to giving evidence had gone. Foster, although looking less than enthused, shrugged his shoulders and agreed to go. Despite some of the hostilities, Conan and the others welcomed his agreement with a round of back slapping and grunts. Foster beamed a slightly forced smile, momentarily appearing like his old self to the others as they left in search of a nearby pub. Inspector Balham jovially told them to behave as they walked to which they all replied “Yes mum!”.
Influence Page 5