Tug Of Law (Bernadette Mackenna Cases Book 4)

by D. R. Bailey

  “But your whole case hinges around Mr Clinton’s testimony does it not?” She floated this question like a lure, hoping he would bite.

  “At the moment but we believe that is sufficient. However, when Mr Jenkins is properly questioned then we believe more evidence will be forthcoming and will simply endorse what we know already. In any case, we intend to charge him and prosecute him regardless. However, he will have an opportunity to make things easier on himself.” Graham was too certain, a little too clever for his own good. Bernadette knew it and was about to exploit it.

  “So, at the moment you can’t be sure, can you?”

  “Well, I think we can.”

  This was what she had been waiting for and like the panther sidling up to its prey, she pounced.

  “I put it to you that you can’t, and your assumption of guilt is just that, an assumption based upon the word of a man who by your own testimony is known to the police and is a convicted criminal.”

  “I believe he is involved nevertheless,” said Graham flustered.

  “But in summary, you cannot be sure. Can you?” She pushed him now, harder.

  “Well…” Graham hesitated knowing she had got him.

  However, Bernadette in full flow was relentless. She punched out the question again.

  “Can you? Yes or no? You cannot be certain he is involved, yes or no?”

  Graham swallowed and like so many who had faced Bernadette while on the stand, he had to admit defeat.

  “Not one hundred percent certain, no. We will, however, charge him and then it is up to the courts and the case we present,” Graham conceded looking annoyed.

  It was a modified concession, but he had conceded it, nevertheless. This was the admission Bernadette wanted because it was an admission of doubt, as slight as it was. It was a good point to stop.

  “No further questions, Judge,” she said with a faint smile playing on her lips.

  As she sat down, Imogen winked at her in acknowledgement of her scoring a hit.

  “Mr Wilson, do you have any more questions?”

  Shane stood, up, perhaps hopeful in salvaging his witness somehow.

  “Yes, Judge, just one or two.”

  “Fine, carry on.”

  “DCI Graham, you have served many years on the force I take it, as a detective?”

  “Yes, I have, twenty or so, mostly in CID and other units,” said Graham.

  “So, you’ve dealt with many cases, I’m sure very professionally and so on.”

  “Mr Wilson, I’m sure the DCI’s credentials are all well and good, so what is your point?” said Justice Brannigan a little testily at this line of questioning.

  “I’m merely trying to establish that DCI Graham with all his experience would not make decisions about suspects lightly and therefore if he feels—”

  He wasn’t allowed to continue. “Yes, yes, yes. So, you are trying to claim that because he’s an experienced police officer then his suspicion of Mr Jenkin’s involvement is justified. Well, of course, he thinks it’s justified, that’s his job,” said Justice Brannigan acerbically, “And nobody, least of all, Mrs Mackenna, is saying otherwise. What she has brought out in his testimony is the fact that he, nor you can have any certainty Mr Jenkins was involved in the crime. That’s what we are here to determine is it not? There’s no jury here, Mr Wilson, we’re all fully aware that policemen are supposed to know what they are doing without making a meal of it.”

  “Yes, Judge,” said Shane, faintly. He evidently wasn’t used to such directness from a judge. However, the nature of the hearing probably allowed the judge to make these kinds of remarks, Bernadette mused, and it was all to the good. It also showed her gambit had paid off.

  “Now then, do you have any other questions for this witness, that do not involve showcasing his career in the police?” said Justice Brannigan with heavy sarcasm.

  “No, Judge,” said Shane realising perhaps that discretion was the better part of valour.

  “Thank you, and I assume, Mrs Mackenna, you have no further questions either?”

  “No, Judge,” said Bernadette.

  “In which case, DCI Graham, you may stand down.”

  Graham left the stand looking a little subdued. Defence counsel were never a favourite with policemen and Bernadette was pretty sure she would not be on his Christmas card list.

  “So, we will have a lunch break shortly,” said the judge, “But you may as well get your next witness underway, Mr Wilson.”

  “Yes, Judge,” said Shane, and called Kevin Clinton to the stand.

  Kevin Clinton arrived under heavy guard, with a Metropolitan Police officer on either side of him and wearing handcuffs. There were armed Gardai in place at the entrance to the court.

  Kevin was around the same height as Callum, and although he was wearing a suit for his appearance, looked as if he was well-muscled underneath it. His face sported a square jaw and a thick black drooping moustache. He had a thick head of hair, blue piercing eyes, which were quite arresting in appearance. Callum was right, Bernadette mused, Kevin could have been a model.

  He sat down in the witness stand and the police officers remained at an easy distance from him. Shane asked him to take an oath, state his name and occupation, as were the usual formalities.

  Once this was accomplished, he started his questions.

  “Mr Clinton, you are or rather you were a truck driver, am I right?”

  “You could say that, yeah,” said Kevin who spoke with a distinct London accent.

  “What else do you do, other than driving trucks?”

  “I’ve been involved in some crime, you know, done time for dealing, nicking cars, stuff like that.”

  “So, is it fair to say you’re a petty criminal?” Shane asked him.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say petty, no not petty, no,” said Kevin, who seemed to take exception to the idea that his criminal exploits might be diminished in this way.

  “So, you’re a criminal and you have criminal connections, is that correct?” said Shane correcting himself.

  “Yeah, that’s more like it, yeah.”

  “Do you admit to being involved in the trafficking of nineteen Vietnamese women?”

  “Yeah, that’s right, yeah, I was. Not proud of it though, you know, it’s a job right, innit.”

  The offhand way in which Kevin had said this was clearly repellent even to Shane and Bernadette could read it in his expression.

  “Right, so you knew about the trafficking and you were involved in it?”

  “Yeah, right, that’s what I just said, yeah.”

  “OK, so we’ve established that. Now, Mr Clinton, is there anyone in this courtroom you recognise?” Shane began.

  “Yeah, that geezer, over there, that’s Callum, my mate,” said Kevin.

  “Could you point him out please?”

  Kevin pointed his finger at Callum, and said, “That’s him.”

  “How did you know Callum?”

  “Well, we’re mates right, we met in a pub, and we were in the same line of work, so we got on.”

  “I see, so you became friends, is that correct?”

  “Yes, yes, it is.”

  Bernadette noticed he did not mention anything about a relationship, and this was all to the good. Perhaps Shane thought they could get away without saying anything, but he must surely know she would bring it up. In his position, she would have pre-empted it.

  “Was Mr Jenkins involved in the trafficking of these women?” Shane asked him directly.

  “Yeah, yeah he was.”

  “So, how did it come about that he was involved?”

  “Well, we were talking, you know in the pub, as you do. I asked him if he fancied making a bit more money, like, a bit extra.”

  “And when was this?”

  “A few weeks before the job, I can’t remember exactly.”

  This was vague and to Bernadette smacked of fabrication.<
br />
  “OK, and then what happened?”

  “He said he might be, and I told him about the goods, you know coming in, and if he was to drive the truck take the risk like, then there’d be something in it for him.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “What did he say? He said yes, I’m in, I’ll do it.”

  “What did doing it involve exactly?”

  “He had to make sure he was on the roster for the truck. Then he’d be involved in the loading of the girls, you know in Dublin, and then drive the truck over and leave it.”

  “Why did he have to know they were in it? Why not just use him as, you know, a mule, as it were?”

  “Because if he knew then he would be more careful, and he had a vested interest in making sure the cargo got through, plus if he did that job then that’s another driver for us. We might want to bring in other stuff next time, we need reliable drivers. He needed to be in on it, that’s how it works.”

  “Who is we, exactly?”

  “The people I was working for, before I, well, got arrested an’ all that.”

  Shane looked happy with the answers so far. It was pretty straightforward from his point of view.

  “So, you have taken an oath and you are willing to swear that Mr Jenkins knew about the trafficking and he was actively involved in it. You are prepared to testify in court to that effect when Mr Jenkins is brought to trial in the United Kingdom.”

  “Absolutely I am, yes. That’s what I am doing, yes.”

  Kevin nodded as if this was an easy ride so far. It had been for him, but Bernadette would be a far different matter.

  “No further questions, Judge,” said Shane.

  “Good, good, so we’ll break for lunch, and resume afterwards,” said Justice Brannigan who didn’t seem inclined to push the boat out past any kind of discomfort regarding breaks.

  The Tipster bade the court rise and the judge left the court.

  ✽✽✽

  There were plenty of rustles and whispered conversations from the press, as Bernadette, Imogen, Rhys and Callum walked out of the court. Bernadette found a meeting room while Imogen disappeared to pick up their sandwich order from the lobby.

  “Is it going alright?” Rhys asked Bernadette as they sat down together.

  “As well as one might expect,” she said, “Their case isn’t watertight by any means, and we are down to getting the judge to accept there is enough doubt to disallow the extradition.”

  “Do you think we can get it?”

  “I’m quietly confident at the moment.”

  Imogen returned with coffee and sandwiches, which she duly distributed.

  “You were right about Kevin, he could have been a model,” said Imogen, biting into a beef roll.

  “Yes, I suppose. I thought he was very handsome but seeing him up there now, lying about me. That pissed me right off,” said Callum with feeling.

  “You were expecting it surely?” Bernadette asked him reaching for a sandwich herself.

  “I know but it hits home when you’ve shared moments. He was so offhand. Just a total wanker.”

  “I’d like to punch his fucking lights out,” said Rhys angrily.

  “I’m sure you do,” Imogen laughed, “But it’s not going to help us if you attempt it.”

  “I know, I know,” Rhys sighed. “I just hate the way he doesn’t care about implicating my son, who is totally innocent.”

  “That’s how criminals are,” said Bernadette wryly, putting down her roll, “They don’t care, and that’s why I don’t represent criminals.”

  “Good job.” Rhys smiled. “I admire your integrity.”

  “In the end integrity is all we have. In this profession anyway.”

  “Are you going after him, after lunch?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m certainly going to do that, I intend to fully rattle his cage and then some.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, if what you did with that policeman is anything to go by.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Imogen laughed.

  ✽✽✽

  They resumed for the afternoon session and Kevin was once again escorted in under guard. When he was in place, Justice Brannigan said, “Mrs Mackenna, would you like to question this witness?”

  “Indeed, I would, Judge,” said Bernadette standing up.

  Kevin looked her over a little contemptuously, and she bore in mind that Callum had said he was a misogynist. She smiled at him benignly and he looked away.

  “Mr Clinton, you said you were friends with Mr Jenkins, am I right? Friends that’s what you said?”

  “Yeah, that’s right, we were mates for sure.” He said in an easy manner, as if she presented no threat to him at all.

  “Is that what friends do, rat on each other? Is it?”

  She was playing with him, just a little before going in for the kill.

  “Well, you know, we weren’t that close, I mean…” he let it slide.

  “Not that close, is that what you said?” she posed the question lightly, lulling him into a false sense of security.

  “Yes, yeah I did.”

  “Because you see, Mr Clinton, I don’t believe you. When you say you were not that close, in fact, I’d say it was the opposite, wouldn’t you?”

  “What? No.” He said a little disconcerted, but Bernadette couldn’t believe he hadn’t been briefed. If not, it would be very remiss of them and a mistake. One which may work in her favour.

  “You were very close because you and Mr Jenkins were lovers, isn’t that right?”

  “No, come on, you’re having a laugh,” Kevin threw it back at her.

  “You and Mr Jenkins were lovers, and you met him in a gay bar, that’s the actual truth, is it not?” she said implacably.

  “I’m not fucking gay!”

  This was a mistake and Bernadette did not know how he felt he could deny it under oath.

  “Please turn to page two seven nine in the book of evidence in front of you,” said Bernadette, waiting for him to do so. “What do you see there?” she asked him at length.

  “It looks like some texts.”

  “What do the texts say on that page? Can you read them out to the court please?”

  Kevin licked his lips, and Shane shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I err…”

  “Could you please read the texts aloud to the court?”

  Kevin coughed, hesitated and then realising he could not get out of it, started reading, “I can’t wait until I can get to suck your fucking big cock, you horny bitch, I want it in me, right in me, and want you to fuck me until I scream… Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too, you big sexy hunk of muscle with your cool moustache… I want you, so much, I can hardly wait… Not long now lover boy…”

  There was silence in the courtroom. There was some frantic scribbling from the reporters, however, at this revelation. The judge, who would no doubt have heard this and worse, didn’t bat an eyelid.

  “Who are the texts between?” Bernadette asked him.

  “Callum…”

  “And?”

  “Myself.”

  She smiled he had no way of getting out of it.

  “Right. And are those the texts which people who are just mates write to each other?”

  He shook his head.

  “No.”

  “Are they texts between lovers?”

  He couldn’t look at her now and looked down at the floor.

  “Yes.”

  “So, I’m going to ask you again, were you and Mr Jenkins lovers?”

  “Yes.”

  “That puts a little different perspective on it doesn’t it?”

  “No… not really…” Kevin began, looking up again.

  “I put it to you that it does,” she cut him off, “You wanted more from him and he wouldn’t give it to you, would he? So, you decided to concoct a story to get back at him, yes?”

  “Nah,
that’s not right, we weren’t lovers for that long, I wasn’t that bothered.”

  “Really? Please turn to page two six five.”

  Kevin did so.

  “What is the date of the texts on that page?”

  Kevin told her.

  “Now please move forward through the pages to the last set of texts.”

  When he had done so, Bernadette said, “The date of those texts, how long after the date you told me before was it?”

  “It’s seven months,” said Kevin.

  “Seven months?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of intimate contact, am I right?”

  “Yes,” said Kevin though it seemed reluctantly.

  “So, this wasn’t some casual fling was it?”

  “I guess not, no.”

  “Seven months is not a casual fling, Mr Clinton, not when we can show, as you’ve seen in the evidence, just a selection of very intimate texts. Isn’t that right?”

  “Well, I err…” It was clear he didn’t want to acknowledge this but had no way of getting out of it.

  “Would you like to read out some more texts to confirm what I’m saying?”

  “No, no it’s fine, I accept it was not a casual relationship.”

  This wasn’t good enough for Bernadette and she went at him again.

  “I’m not asking you to accept it, I’m asking you to admit it. Do you admit you were in an intimate and long-term relationship with Mr Jenkins or not?”

  There was a long pause, while Kevin considered his response. Shane was looking irritated at this turn of events, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  “Mr Clinton?” Bernadette said eventually. “Were you or were you not in a long-term relationship with Mr Jenkins?”

  Kevin sighed. “Yes, yes I was.”

  “Thank you.”

  Having got this far, she was by no means finished.

  “Is it not also true that you were jealous of Mr Jenkins, you began to question him about his movements?”

  “I…”

  She wasn’t having it and was determined to show him that prevarication wasn’t going to work.

  “Page two eight four, Mr Clinton.”