The Maggie Bainbridge Box Set

by Rob Wyllie

  'Mr Cameron, what do you say to all of this?' Henderson leaned forward as if to hear the explanation more clearly.

  'Eh, well we discussed the matter...' He sounded nervous.

  'We? Who is we?'

  'We? Yes, the CPS m'lady. When the report was passed to us, obviously we discussed it in some depth but in the end decided it was not material to the case.'

  'Really,' she said, 'and pray tell me, when exactly was this report passed to you, as you put it.'

  He was clearly fumbling for an answer. 'Eh... when?... eh, I'm not exactly sure.'

  'Well let me simplify the question Mr Cameron. Was it passed to you before or after the start of the trial?'

  This will be good, thought Maggie.

  'It eh... I think it was around the start of the trial, but I'm not sure, I would need to check.' It was not convincing.

  'Let me repeat my question. Before or after, Mr Cameron?'

  He crumbled. 'Before m'lady. We had it before. Just a few days before it started.'

  The judge paused to make some notes in the ring-bound pad that she had taken earlier from a desk drawer.

  'So let me get this clear. The trial is just about to start after several months of careful preparation, then along comes an inconvenient piece of late-breaking evidence and you decide to dismiss it there and then. Tell me, did you even bother to try and speak with this Dr Khan?'

  'M'lady, it wasn't like that...'

  Henderson's irritation was obvious. 'Mr Cameron, did- you- try- to- speak- to- Dr- Khan?'

  'Not personally, no m'lady. I believe he was interviewed by some of my senior Crown Prosecution colleagues, but no, I did not speak to him myself at any point.'

  'And so you, as the Queen's Council for the Crown, did not think it important that you should meet with this individual and judge for yourself whether his evidence was indeed material? A key witness, with the potential of undermining the whole case, and you did not seek to speak with him yourself?'

  Cameron looked as if the noose had been placed around his neck and Margo Henderson was about to pull the lever that opened the trap door.

  'No m'lady, as I said, I believe he was interviewed by CPS lawyers and it was felt that it was not relevant to the case. But perhaps on reflection, yes, I probably should have spoken to him myself.'

  'Perhaps you should have reflected a bit sooner, Mr Cameron,' she replied.

  'M'lady, may I raise a point?' Maggie said, and without waiting for an answer, 'It would be good to know how the report came into the hands of the CPS in the first place.'

  Henderson did not seem offended by the interjection. 'Yes, a good point Mrs Brooks. Mr Cameron, I assume you can help us with this?'

  Still he did not look up, instead mumbling something inaudible under his breath.

  'What? Speak up Mr Cameron.'

  'I believe it came via a government department m'lady.'

  Maggie could not hide her astonishment.

  'Government? What do you mean government?' Henderson asked. 'Who in the government? The Home Office, the Department of Justice, MI6, who?'

  'I don't know. It just came to me via the CPS.' If he had access to the lever, he would have opened the trapdoor himself.

  'You know, I am finding this rather hard to understand. I say it again - you Mr Cameron, as the QC for the Crown, did not think it important to understand the source of this report? Frankly I'm astonished, I cannot think of any other way to put it.'

  She glanced down at her notebook, nodding slowly, her lips pursed.

  'So, I have to say this is a grave matter, very grave indeed. Frankly it's not the first time in recent years that I have had to deal with the police and the CPS failing to disclose material evidence...'

  'M'lady, honestly, it wasn't like that...'

  'Mr Cameron, I'm not finished. Please do not interrupt again. As I was saying, this is not the first occurrence of this reprehensible behaviour, and I'm getting very fed up with it, very fed up indeed. I would go so far as to say that I fear it is becoming somewhat of a trend. And in this case, it seems we may have government interference too. That is something I thought I would never see in this country in my lifetime. This is very serious, you must know that Mr Cameron.'

  She did not wait for his answer.

  'Look, I need to consider this very carefully before deciding what I'm going to do. For now, I'm going to suspend the trial so I can take advice and consider the next steps. I will see you two back in this room, let's see, in three days' from now. Clerk, could you please inform the court room and ensure the jury are reminded again of their obligation not to discuss the case with anyone whilst they have been stood down.'

  With that, she picked up her notebook and swept out of the room followed by the Clerk, leaving Maggie and Cameron alone. Now he was angry. Very angry.

  'You bastard.' He was visibly shaking and looked close to tears. 'This will ruin me, you know that. You bastard.'

  'You ruined yourself Adam,' Maggie replied, getting up to leave. 'Both sides have an obligation to disclose all material evidence. That's law school one-oh-one, as our American friends would say. You should know that, you've been at it long enough. See you on Friday.'

  As she left, she gave a quiet smile of satisfaction. This was it. At last, the career breakthrough. Just a couple of days to wait, and then, welcome to the big time. Maggie Bainbridge QC. It sounded rather good.

  ◆◆◆

  Three days later, they were in the anonymous Victoria Street building that housed the Office of the Attorney General, a measure perhaps of how serious the judge was taking the disturbing news that had been revealed on the last day of the trial. Lady Justice Henderson kept them waiting for over forty minutes, a receptionist shepherding them on arrival into a stark waiting-room furnished with cheap plastic chairs most of which had seen better days. Maggie and Adam Cameron sat in opposite corners of the room, having exchanged nothing but a cursory 'good morning.' She, relaxed and confident, he still wearing the demeanour of a condemned murderer.

  Finally a smartly-dressed young woman appeared and announced 'Lady Justice Henderson will see you now'. Today Maggie had chosen a slim tailored skirt and crisp white blouse, since this wasn't a courtroom appearance and therefore there was no need for the stuffy wig and robes. Margo Henderson too was dressed informally in navy trousers and a lavender cashmere cardigan over a white tee-shirt. Cameron by contrast had decided to play it safe, opting for a standard barrister-issue three-piece navy pinstripe suit.

  'Good morning Mrs Brooks and Mr Cameron.'

  They answered in unison. 'Good morning m'lady.'

  She sighed as if to underline the seriousness of what was about to be discussed. 'You both know very well why you are here. As I said on Tuesday, it's a grave matter, a very grave matter indeed.'

  'Yes it is,' Maggie said.

  'Grave,' Cameron agreed.

  'So, as you might expect, I have consulted widely with learned colleagues and with the Attorney General herself. I have also been able to find out more about Dr Khan from his bosses in Cheltenham. Coming to that first, it may interest you both to know that I spoke at length with the Director of his division, a Dr Jane Robertson, on Wednesday afternoon. Firstly, it should be said that Dr Robertson was not aware that Dr Khan had written his report, and she stressed that it had not been commissioned by any legitimate authority that she knew of, certainly not within GCHQ or any of the security services.'

  'So who did commission it?' Maggie asked, her tone sounding more blunt than she intended. A flicker of annoyance crossed Henderson's face.

  'I was coming to that Mrs Brooks. Dr Robertson interrogated Dr Khan on Wednesday morning on that subject. It seems quite simply that he had been following the case in the media and was uneasy when he heard that Professor Walker was to be the Crown's expert witness. Dr Robertson promulgated the view that Dr Khan may have been driven by professional rivalry. He apparently does not recognise Professor Walker as an expert in the field, and says that they ha
ve crossed swords in the past on what she calls the conference circuit.'

  'So that's all it is?' Maggie said, surprised. 'Just some geek's ego trip?'

  'Apparently so Mrs Brooks,' Henderson said, 'but Dr Robertson did yesterday discuss Dr Khan's report with other senior scientists in his department and there was a unanimous view that if Dr Khan questioned the Walker testimony, then it must be flawed. They have great faith in his technical expertise, and if he believes the identification of the defendant is not reliable, then it must be so. I don't have to remind you Mr Cameron, that it is upon that evidence which your entire case rests.'

  He was evidently not sure if he was expected to comment on this so remained silent.

  'But do we know m'lady how the report got to the prosecution?' Maggie asked. 'Mr Cameron thought it may have come via a government department or agency.'

  'I said I thought the CPS got it that way,' Cameron said. 'I personally had no direct interaction with any government agencies or officials.'

  'Well I think I can answer that,' the judge said. 'It seems Dr Khan simply searched for the email address of the Head of the Crown Prosecution Service, and then sent a copy through to Lady Rooke's office. Elizabeth Rooke claims that her officials passed it on to the case director without looking at it, a claim I am inclined to believe. I have also spoken to the Attorney General and to the Home Secretary...'

  'You spoke to Lucinda Black and Gerrard Saddleworth?' Maggie said, surprised.

  'Naturally. In a trial of this importance, I would expect both to be constantly kept up to date with developments, but it seems in this case, the CPS team did not deem to share the information with them. Neither the Head of the CPS, the Attorney General nor the Home Secretary were aware of the existence of this report. I cannot help but think this will be highly damaging when it reaches the public domain, to both the CPS and the government.'

  Great, thought Maggie, but what are you going to do about the case itself? She did not have to wait long for an answer.

  'So, this has really been a shambles from start to finish,' Henderson said. 'I cannot really put it any other way. But what is absolutely clear to me is that the Crown does not have a case without reliance on what is now seen to be the highly unreliable facial recognition evidence obtained from the tradesman's dashcam. Had the Khan report been properly considered I have little doubt that the case would not, indeed could not, have been brought before this court. In mitigation, I do accept the fact that the report was not available when the case was being prepared, but only surfaced after the pre-trial and plea submission. That is an explanation but not an excuse. I am given to conclude that this, and not for the first time in recent years I must add, is a serious attack on our justice system. I cannot and will not allow this reprehensible trend to continue.'

  This is it. This is it.

  Henderson peered over her half-rimmed reading glasses, her gaze fixing first on Maggie and then on Adam Cameron. Now, it seemed, it was time for her verdict.

  'So I have consulted with Ms Black, Lady Rooke and Mr Saddleworth and have informed them that I will have no option but to declare a mistrial.'

  A mistrial. Maggie had hoped against hope for that outcome, but for it to come true was beyond her wildest dreams.

  'They are understandably dismayed, but agree with me that the integrity of our justice system is bigger than any individual case. I will return to the court at two o'clock this afternoon where the jury will be dismissed and the defendant will be free to go.'

  Now Maggie was struggling to conceal her elation. It was the result she had longed for more than any other. Her client was to be freed despite impossible odds, and she now had the big win she had hoped and prayed for, but never really believed could happen.

  Adam Cameron bowed his head, stunned into silence. Maggie, misjudging the mood, said with a smile. 'Thank you m'lady,' and stood up as if to leave.

  'Sit down please Mrs Brooks,' Henderson said sternly. 'I'm not finished with you two yet.'

  And then slowly and forensically, Maggie's whole world, her very future, was crushed into extinction by Lady Justice Margo Henderson QC.

  ◆◆◆

  She did not remember anything about the journey home that evening, so deep was her distress, and was relieved that Daisy had already put Ollie to bed by the time she got back. All she wanted to do was sleep, sleep for a week, sleep for a month or a year until it all just went away. She filled her wine glass to the brim and drank it in two gulps, then, shaking, she stumbled over to the fridge and filled it once again. Sleep, please, please let me sleep.

  But she could not sleep that night and as she lay tossing and turning, question after question filled her mind, gnawing away, hour after hour. Why oh why did I think I could get away with it? So bloody stupid. Adam Cameron, the smooth Old Etonian, gets off with a light wrap on the knuckles, whilst inept but anonymous CPS lawyers take the bulk of the flak. A serious collective error of judgement, but with no deliberate intention to pervert justice. That's what the judge had said. Not great from Cameron's point of view, but hardly ruinous.

  And then, like a bolt from the blue, Henderson casually dropped her bombshell, leaving Maggie stunned, disorientated and broken. Information from an authoritative source, identity not disclosed, proving that the defence team, and by implication Mrs Maggie Brooks, had in fact received the Khan report more than six weeks ago, not just in the last few days as they claimed.

  It was a damn lie, of course it was a lie. It had been scarcely more than a week since she had seen the damn report for the first time. What authoritative source, and what information? Henderson wouldn't say, no matter how much Maggie pleaded with her. This was turning into a complete nightmare.

  And now she was to be referred to the Bar Standards Board, accused of, what was it, conduct likely to diminish public confidence in the legal profession or the administration of justice. A stunt, Henderson had called it, a blatant attempt to circumvent the jury system. Worse, she stood accused of lying to the court about the timeline of the report. Lying to the court, about the worst offence a barrister could be accused of. Now she faced a fine or perhaps more likely a long suspension. That was bad enough, but what it really meant was that her career in all practical senses was now over.

  She sat up and peered groggily at the clock by her bedside, having finally accepted that sleep would not come. It was 4.30 am. She picked up the TV remote and pressed the standby button bringing the set to life. The BBC was broadcasting its interminable rolling news, leading with the murder of a young woman soldier in Belfast who had been shot through the head whilst attending a suspected bomb incident.

  Following closely in the running order was the freeing of Alzahrani and the sensational collapse of the trial. Lady Justice Henderson was not scheduled to release her report until 10.00am the next morning, but already it was leaking like a chocolate teapot. The BBC's legal correspondent was talking about 'another failure to disclose evidence by the CPS,' and that the judge's report 'is expected to be particularly critical about the role of inexperienced defence barrister Mrs Maggie Brooks.'

  This was not how it was meant to be. Now the anchor was saying 'Now let's take a look at tomorrow's papers'. There was Alzahrani, pictured on the front page of the Chronicle under the headline 'Notting Hill Bomber to be Freed'.

  Then, eventually, they cut to other news. In a dusty refugee camp a few miles from the Syrian border their Middle East correspondent was interviewing the famous human rights lawyer Philip Brooks. Alongside him, looking like bloody Lara Croft in combat trousers and a tight-fitting Action for Palestine tee-shirt, was the dark Mediterranean beauty Angelique Perez, one of his firm's up-and-coming Associates. He had told Maggie he was travelling alone.

  Chapter 5

  A mistrial. The celebrations were muted of course as they had to be, since they knew that it wasn't seemly to be exultant over the release of a child-murdering terrorist onto the streets of the capital. But family is family and that's what always comes first f
or anyone, no matter who you are, no matter how important your position in life. It's family first and everything else is secondary. The plan had been crazy and audacious, and none of the group had given it a hope in hell of success - except its conceiver, who through sheer force of conviction persuaded them to go with it. Trust me, that's what the conceiver had said, and in the end, but not without considerable reservations, that's what they had done. And without knowing, little Maggie Brooks had played her part to perfection. Naive, vain, stupid. She had been the perfect choice.

  Now they sat in the quiet committee room just off the Central Lobby, sipping on stiff gin and tonics and reflecting quietly on a job well done. All neat and tidy and consigned to history, and it would stay that way as long as everyone kept their mouths shut. And even if they didn't, there was always Plan B.

  Chapter 6

  Penelope White didn't much like coming into the office these days. Admittedly there was seldom the need, given that all her copy could be submitted electronically, but the less she saw of Rod Clark, her editor at the Chronicle, the better. For she was the award winner, the controversialist, the bona-fide journalistic superstar. It was her opinion that poxy editors didn't have the right to mess about with her copy, but Clark still liked to try. He seemed to have difficulty in understanding that it was her who sold the damn papers, not him.

  But even she could see that today was different, which is why she had set the alarm for the god-awful hour of 6.30am and braved the tube to get to the Kensington offices for 8.30am. Too bloody early.

  'Morning Penelope, this is indeed a rare pleasure.' She knew Clark would have already been in for hours, if indeed he'd actually gone home the previous evening. He lived and breathed the paper, to the detriment of every other relationship in his life. As did she.

  'Morning Rod. I hope you've got the coffee on.'

  He smiled. 'All ready to go, and brewed just the way you like it. Nice and strong.' He resented the amount of arse-licking that White demanded, but was prepared to put up with it in return for her genius. For now at least.