She closed her notebook. ‘We have a busy week ahead. Please ensure we do our jobs to the best of our ability and leave our differences…’ She stared at both Carol Oates and Sophia, ‘…at the entrance to this building. Is that clear?’
There was steel, and a threat, hidden in the last question. It produced a mumbled, ‘Yes, Coroner’ from the two women.
‘Ridpath…’
‘Yes, Coroner.’
‘I’d like you to stay behind for a moment after this meeting if you would.’
Chapter 4
As the others filed out of the room, Ridpath was left in his seat wondering what he had done wrong. Had Mrs Challinor finally had enough of his lateness? Was she going to let him go? Was there a problem he knew nothing about?
Her first question immediately worried him.
‘How are you feeling, Ridpath?’
‘Feeling? Fine, Margaret. The hospital wants me to go back tomorrow morning for some more tests. Apparently they want to re-check my last blood work.’
Mrs Challinor smiled. ‘No, I meant about working here.’
‘Still enjoying it. Sophia is working well, handling the bureaucracy and I’m getting better at dealing with the issues of the families. As you know I was never great at breaking bad news. Mr Blunt they used to call me in MIT.’
‘Sometimes, it’s best to tell people the truth. They always handle honesty better than dissembling or equivocation.’ She sat back in her chair. ‘Good, I’m glad you’re still enjoying the job. And what about the family?’
Ridpath glanced at the clock on the wall. 11.30. Eve would have finished her exam by now. ‘Eve’s growing up too quickly but Polly is the same as ever, happy I’m managing my work and life balance better and spending more time with her. All in all, life’s good at the moment.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘And how’s the workload?’
Ridpath thought for a moment. Where was this going? ‘The workload’s fine. Since Sophia has taken over the bureaucracy, form filling and keeping files in order, it’s freed me to actually spend more time on cases and with families.’
‘No, I meant your workload right now.’
‘Not bad. There’s the Routledge case to follow up for David. Carol Oates asked me to look into the circumstances of the death of a painter who fell from his ladder, a Mr Robinson. I have my usual weekly meeting with MIT tomorrow morning and I need to find time to go to the hospital, but I suppose I can postpone it until later.’
‘No, you need to go if they’ve asked you. I promised Polly I would never compromise your health. I want you to keep my promise, Ridpath.’
Once again Ridpath felt the women in his life were ganging up against him. First Eve and now Mrs Challinor. ‘I will find the time, Coroner.’
‘But no work is urgent, right?’
‘Nothing I have to get onto this minute.’
‘Good.’ She pulled out a green file from her desk drawer. ‘You heard me talking about the case of Wendy Tang.’
‘The woman who committed suicide in the Immigration Removal Centre?’
‘That is what everybody is assuming.’
‘What?’
‘I spent all last night reviewing the case. It’s a catalogue of mistakes, compounded by errors and incompetence.’
Ridpath raised his eyebrows.
‘The Removal Centre management was more concerned with avoiding blame than anything else, the forensic work perfunctory, the police investigation incompetent at best, while the post-mortem was rushed and unsatisfactory.’
‘Pretty damning, Coroner.’
‘Even worse, the files for the case only arrived on Saturday, and none of them are conclusive, even though we have had an inquest scheduled for Thursday and the incident occurred nearly one month ago. There are so many holes in the investigation you could drive a Manchester bus through it.’
‘It’s a detention facility. Security must be tight.’
‘One would think so.’
‘But if it wasn’t suicide, what could it be?’
‘I don’t know, but after Shipman, I’m not letting assumptions about a death pass on my watch without a proper investigation.’
It was Mrs Challinor’s particular nightmare; the coronial system had failed to spot the nearly 300 murders committed by Dr Shipman in Manchester during the 1990s. Even though she was only peripherally involved, Ridpath knew she was determined no such mistakes would ever happen again on her watch.
She paused for a moment, running her fingers through her long grey curls. ‘Look, it probably was suicide, but we have a duty to investigate all deaths occurring in government custody.’
There was a silence in the room.
Outside the picture window the wind was blowing through the trees, in the distance the traffic rumbled along the M60, and nearer an ice cream van was playing Oranges and Lemons to tempt children to try its cold charms.
Inside, Ridpath finally spoke. ‘But you said the inquest was starting on Thursday. It’s only three days away.’
‘Correct.’
‘Can you postpone it?’
Mrs Challinor slowly shook her head. ‘I’ve been in touch with the family. They’re looking for answers and closure and flying in from China. We can’t waste any more time. It’s been over a month already since her death.’
‘We haven’t released the body to them?’
‘It’s still in the mortuary. I’ve asked Dr Schofield to re-look at the post-mortem. He was reluctant at first – you know how doctors are when reviewing the work of one of their colleagues.’
‘But he agreed to do it?’ Ridpath wasn’t surprised given the persuasive powers of the coroner.
Mrs Challinor smiled. ‘So while he is re-looking at the medical side, I want you to check the investigation.’
‘A wide brief, Coroner.’
‘I know.’
‘And only a short time to get the work done.’
‘I know. But there’s more, Ridpath.’
He stayed silent as she stared down at her desk and reached out her long, elegantly manicured fingers to brush a piece of lint which had fallen on her white blotter. ‘How many people do you think have died through contact with the police in the last twenty years?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Guess?’
Ridpath shrugged his shoulders. ‘25.’
‘Since 1990, there have been 1717 deaths following contact with the police; 1102 in custody, 403 in pursuit, 141 in road traffic injuries and 71 by shooting. How many officers do you think have been found guilty of misconduct or negligence?’
‘I don’t know.’
She formed a big O with her thumb and forefinger. ‘Zero. One officer was found guilty of unlawful murder by a coroner’s jury in 2011 but he was subsequently cleared during a criminal trial.’ She paused for a moment. ‘How many people have died at Immigration Removal Centres since the year 2000?’
Ridpath shook his head.
‘36. How many of the officers or the companies running these centres have been found guilty of negligence? I’ll tell you the answer. Zero, once again.’
‘What’s the point, Mrs Challinor?’
The coroner pushed her fingers through her hair. ‘The point is, Ridpath, it’s extremely difficult to discover the truth in these deaths The whole system is designed to prevent it from coming out. From the Home Office, through the Ministry of Justice, to the companies running these Centres and the police investigating deaths.’
‘You seem to be suggesting some vast conspiracy, Coroner.’
‘No, it’s institutional. The system is built to protect itself, not the victims of its actions.’
‘Like the Catholic Church and its protection of paedophile priests.’
‘Exactly. And closer to home, the people murdered by Harold Shipman.’
‘So you’re saying we should be careful.’
‘We should always be careful, Ridpath. Neither of us are particular
ly liked by the powers that be. You’re too much of a maverick and I’m… well, I’m too involved in my cases for the cold fish at the Ministry.’ She ran her fingers through her unruly nest of grey curls again. ‘You know I had an email from the family in China asking me what was happening. It was in English but obviously written by a teenager studying the language.’ She looked up at him. ‘What could I tell them?’
Ridpath didn’t answer.
‘We don’t really look at deaths in custody? We don’t care about those who die in Removal Centres? We can’t be bothered about these sorts of people because they are classed as illegal immigrants and therefore their lives have no worth? Of course I didn’t. I wrote back in the usual bland language we use for these occasions.’ She picked up a printout of the email, reading it aloud. ‘“The UK Coroner Service is committed to finding the truth of any death, particularly when the death occurs while the victim is under the jurisdiction of the British government.” I think I later even used the phrase “we will leave no stone unturned”. God, I hope the teenager who translates the emails understands the idiom.’
‘It’s the only thing you could write, Mrs Challinor.’
‘And now I’ve written it, I want it to be true, Ridpath. I want to find the truth of this death, to leave no stone unturned, to find out what actually happened.’
‘Even if it leads to the conclusion this woman committed suicide?’
‘Of course. For once I want to be able to tell the truth to this family.’ She sighed. ‘They tell us our job as coroners is to protect people. “An advocate for the dead to safeguard the living,” in the current management-speak job description. Well, I am going to do the job despite the objections of those in authority who would try to obstruct me. It’s going to be difficult, Ridpath, are you ready to join me?’
Ridpath thought for a moment. ‘When and where do we start?’
She passed two thin files across her desk. ‘Now, and with these.’
Chapter 5
Ridpath returned to his office carrying the files. In the corridor he was accosted by Carol Oates. He had a feeling she had been waiting for him.
‘What was all that about? Very cloak and dagger asking you to stay behind and closing the door.’
‘Nothing much, just updating me on a case.’
Carol Oates tucked a stray blonde hair, which had escaped from her immaculate chignon, behind her ear. ‘Oh, which case was that?’
‘One of the coroner’s.’ He attempted to pass her in the narrow corridor, but she stepped in front of him.
She continued to play with her hair. ‘You know we’ve been working together for the last year, but we’ve hardly ever talked. Perhaps we should go for a drink after work, get to know each other better.’
Ridpath stepped around her. ‘A great idea. We should bring Sophia along too. You both need to work on working together.’
The smile vanished. ‘Your assistant needs to learn how to take instructions, Ridpath, not question my decisions. And a word in your ear.’ She leant in closer and lowered her voice, ‘The coroner isn’t flavour of the month with the Ministry or the Chief Constable. Too awkward, too confrontational, too…’
‘Too good at her job?’
‘…Too difficult. She needs to be careful and so do you.’
With those parting words, the woman turned and flounced back to her room. Ridpath stood there for a moment before returning to his office where Sophia was waiting for him.
‘What did she want? I wouldn’t trust that one as far as I could throw up on her.’
‘Nothing, but you need to work with her better, Sophia. She’s a senior coroner and you’re—’
‘Just a skivvy.’
‘I was about to say an important member of my office whose job it is to work as part of a team.’
‘Ok, I get the message, but I still don’t like her.’
‘You don’t have to like her, you just have to work with her.’
She made a moue with her mouth but he knew she understood. In the six months Sophia Rahman had worked for him, she had been brilliant, displaying an intelligence and capacity for work matching Ridpath’s own. As a maverick, he recognised the same character in her and felt a bit of a fraud for lecturing her on the strengths of teamwork. But there was a time for individuality in an investigation and now wasn’t it.
She handed him a sheaf of papers. ‘These are the cases from the weekend. The coroner has already been through them and marked the ones she wants to follow up. I separated them into two piles for you to go over and we can decide what needs to be done.’
‘Thanks, can we do them later? I want to read these first.’ He pointed to the files.
‘Looks like homework from the coroner.’
‘It is. The Wendy Tang case and the inquest is starting on Thursday.’
‘Not much time.’
He pulled out the chair and opened the first file. ‘Give me half an hour.’
She held up her Starbucks mug. ‘You want another coffee? I’m going on a caffeine run.’
He shook his head. ‘Nah, I’m already wired from the last one. What was in it, rocket fuel?’
‘I gave you a triple shot. I figured you needed waking.’
‘Thanks. Now can I need a bottle of Valium to calm me down.’ He held out his hand, which was trembling slightly. Was that the coffee or something else?
‘You’ve had enough. I’ll see if anybody else wants one.’
‘Don’t forget to ask Carol Oates.’
‘I won’t, but they don’t do poison at Starbucks.’
She closed the door in the office, leaving Ridpath alone with the file.
He scanned the Greater Manchester Police logo at the top of the page and the rest of the document. It was the usual pro forma opened for every case. The investigating officer was a DS Ronald Barnes. The name was vaguely familiar. Had they been on a course together?
Ridpath read the report. The usual bumf about the Police and Criminal Justice Act 1967 was followed by a report disclaimer. ‘This statement consisting of (four pages signed by me) is true to the best of my knowledge and belief and I have made it knowing, if it is tendered in evidence, I shall be liable to prosecution if I have knowingly stated in it anything I know to be false or do not believe to be true.’
Ridpath had read a million of these in his time. This one was blunt and to the point, lacking any sort of description or hyperbole.
Statement of Ronald Barnes
Occupation: Detective Sergeant, A Division, Greater Manchester Police
Number: 43675
Date: 25 August 2019
Interesting, the report was written five days after the event. Was this a particularly slack copper? Usually, these things were written within a day. ‘So your memory is still fresh’ had been drilled into them again and again at the Training College.
He carried on reading.
On August 20 at 06:10 hours 1995, I was dispatched to an incident at the Wilmslow Immigration Removal Centre, Old Hall Road, arriving at 06.25 a.m.
On arrival and entrance to the Centre, I was escorted to room 7 on the second floor. Inside was the deceased body of an Oriental woman lying face upwards on a bed. Her throat appeared to have been cut and there was blood all over the bed and floor.
Beside the bed, I saw a knife with a seven-inch blade and bloodstains all along the edge and on the tang.
I immediately called for a forensics team and a pathologist to attend the scene.
Subsequent enquiries revealed this woman to be a detainee at the centre, Wendy TANG (DOB 23.06.93.) The first attending officer on the scene, Constable Martin LAMBIE (PC 7869) had arrived at 4.25 a.m. to find the woman already dead.
The death had been reported by a Detainee Custody Officer, Antony OSBORNE in a phone call to the Response Centre at 4.10 a.m.
The body had been discovered by another DCO, Joseph CUMMINGS at 4.06 a.m.
The duty pathologist, DR AHMED, was called and a scene of crime team arrived at 07:0
2 hours. Prior to their arrival the room had been closed since the incident and the rest of the inmates detained in their cells.
The following statements were taken and are appended to this document:
Mr Joseph CUMMINGS (DOB 14.6.87) – DCO
Mr Antony OSBORNE (DOB 12.02.73) – DCO
Mr David CARLTON (DOB 08.11.79) – Centre Manager
The pathologist pronounced Ms Tang dead at 07:32 hours. The body was removed to the mortuary for a post-mortem at 08:15 hours.
Room 7 was sealed and remained closed while the scene of crime officers examined the premises for evidence.
Signed and dated. Ronald Barnes (DS, Rowley Station)
Three witness statements, typed and signed, were attached to the case file. Ridpath read them through quickly. They all seemed to confirm the story: the body of a woman was found with her throat slashed and a knife nearby. The police were called. Standard operating procedures for Wilmslow Immigration Removal Centre were followed at all times.
Sometimes the same words were used in the statements, always a giveaway to Ridpath – either the witnesses had been coached what to say or the investigating officer had helped them with the statements.
There were just three other attachments, all written by Ronald Barnes, and one was dated a week later.
Comparison of the fingerprints of the woman whose death was recorded at the Wilmslow Immigration Removal Centre, Ms Wendy TANG, to those of another woman on IDENT1, reveals the woman was previously known as Wendy CHEN aka CHEN Hong Xi (surname in capitals), a native of Shanghai, China.
This information has been added to the databases and the Police National Computer.
Not so uncommon, the dead person having another name. But Ridpath was surprised there was no other information recorded. Why was the woman’s name on the PNC?
The second additional page was a summary of the forensic findings.
Where the Innocent Die Page 2