#YouToo

by Candy Denman

  Jo made her way towards the front door of the impressive Edward- ian villa. She could see no lights on anywhere in the house and she wondered if this was just a way of stopping people from approaching the building, and the occupants, or if it really was an empty house.

  Bracing herself for disappointment, she knocked at the big and im- posing front door. As she had expected, there was no response. To be fair, if she were in the same position as Doreen Ponting, she wouldn’t answer her door either. She rang the bell and knocked again and then shouted through the letterbox.

  ‘It’s not the press, Ms Ponting. It’s Dr Hughes. Jo Hughes. I’m a forensic physician with the police. Do you remember me?’ The house stayed silent. ‘I wanted, I really need to discuss a theory with you. About why you might have been set up. You and others.’

  Jo waited with baited breath for any sign of life from inside the house and was rewarded when she felt sure she could hear the sound of someone walking quietly towards the door. The footsteps stopped and Jo started speaking again, loud enough to be heard by anyone in- side, if there was anyone there.

  ‘Ms Ponting, I’m sure you must remember me; I’ve been involved in a number of cases you’ve prosecuted. I work for the police and I promise I am not here on behalf of the press or anything. I honestly believe you are innocent and I want to discuss why this has happened to you.’

  There was another prolonged silence and Jo was just beginning to wonder if she had imagined the footsteps when she heard them again, and then the scrape of the door being unbolted and unlocked before it swung open just far enough for Jo to see that it was indeed Doreen Ponting who had opened it. She stepped swiftly inside the darkened house before it was once again closed, locked and bolted securely.

  ‘Follow me,’ Doreen ordered and Jo did, hands slightly in front of her in case there were any obstacles that she couldn’t see in the dark.

  There was a sudden burst of light as Doreen Ponting opened an internal door and led Jo into a warm and inviting Shaker-style kitchen. It was obviously the heart of the house, as every kitchen should be. Doreen gestured for Jo to sit at the large kitchen table.

  ‘Coffee or something stronger?’ Doreen asked her. ‘Coffee. Thank you.’

  As Doreen filled the kettle, Jo couldn’t help but notice the single dinner plate with a barely touched microwave meal for one on it, sit- ting next to a single wine glass and nearly empty bottle of white wine. This was a family kitchen, being used by one person. One lonely per- son.

  ‘My husband is staying away for a few days. Can’t say that I blame him,’ Doreen explained in a voice that clearly said that she did blame him for leaving her to face the music, and the press, alone.

  ‘Now what is it you want to discuss, Dr Hughes?’ she asked as she set down a mug of coffee and a small jug of milk in front of Jo.

  ‘Call me Jo, please.’ Jo smiled and then carried on. ‘Has Detective Inspector Miller told you about the other lawyers who have found themselves in similar situations as yourself?’

  Doreen frowned and played with her glass.

  ‘I know about Giles of course, and I heard about Mervyn, if that’s what you are referring to? I’ve been going through cases that I prose- cuted where they were involved, but nothing seems to stand out as a reason to do this.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s much more than that,’ Jo said and leant forward. ‘Adrian Cole was found floating in his employers swimming pool having apparently drowned there after sending self-incriminating and embarrassing emails to all of his company’s clients. It was later proved that he hadn’t died in the pool but had been drugged and killed else- where and then moved.’ Jo was stretching things a bit by saying he was killed rather than that he killed himself, but she needed to convince Doreen about the conspiracy.

  Doreen took a tentative sip of wine, before pushing it away and going to make herself a coffee instead.

  ‘Is he connected to this area at all?’

  ‘Not that I know, except that Sir Geoffrey Wendlesham, the chair- man and owner of the company, lives in Compton Cazeley, so that’s where the body was found, but he was actually killed at his home near Tunbridge Wells.’

  ‘Sir Geoffrey? That won’t have pleased him. I heard he was under investigation by the SFO. The firm won’t survive that.’ Doreen seemed to derive a certain amount of pleasure from this as she spooned instant coffee into a mug and set the kettle to boil again. ‘And this man was murdered, you say?’

  ‘Probably, although it was dressed up to look like suicide.’ Doreen gave Jo an interrogatory look that made Jo feel immediately guilty, she certainly wouldn’t like to be on the wrong end of a cross-examination by the CPS lawyer. ‘An overdose of drugs and alcohol in his hot tub.’

  Doreen raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Were the press sent pictures and told about the emails?’ she asked. ‘Not in this case,’ Jo admitted, ‘There were just the emails to his cli- ents, but the press was informed in advance in the cases of John Dixon

  and Mervyn Bartlett.’ ‘John Dixon?’

  ‘The son-in-law of -’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know who he is, and what has recently happened to him, but what has he got to do with any of this?’

  ‘He works for the Solicitors Regulatory Authority and I wondered if perhaps he had heard a complaint against Mr Townsend or one of the others and perhaps hadn’t acted on it?’

  As she put her mug on the table and added milk, Doreen was not looking convinced.

  ‘These events could just be coincidences. The law is a broad church, and you are bound to get some non-conformists amongst those work- ing in it. These events aren’t criminal. Visiting a gay sauna, practicing auto-asphyxiation, drowning in your hot tub-.’

  ‘Visiting dogging sites…’ Jo interrupted and saw Doreen’s face harden. ‘You know you didn’t go there of your own accord. What’s to say someone didn’t help these others on their way. Oh, I know Giles clearly trussed himself up, but someone super-glued the release catch. John goes to gay saunas because, I don’t know, maybe as a little re- bellion against his father-in-law, but someone helped him collapse in there and made sure the press were around to see him carried out. Cole has a hot tub, but he hasn’t drowned in one before, and are we really meant to believe that when his wife found his body, she bundled him into her car and dragged him into his boss’s swimming pool sim- ply to score a point against Sir Geoffrey? I don’t believe it, not for one moment. Someone did this. Someone helped all these people, includ- ing you, to die or self-destruct and that someone had to know you all well enough to be familiar with your personal habits.’

  There was a stunned silence and Jo wondered if, in her passionate defence of her theory, she had perhaps gone too far.

  To her relief, Doreen finally nodded and sat down.

  ‘How are the Hampshire police getting on with investigating your, um, predicament.’ Jo didn’t want to use the dogging word again, even though it had helped in convincing Doreen. She didn’t want to upset the poor woman any more than was absolutely necessary.

  Doreen pulled a face.

  ‘I’m not sure they believe me. In fact,’ She took a sip of her cof- fee, ‘the only reason they are still trying to find someone who could have orchestrated it is the concern that all my cases might have to be re-examined. Can you believe it? All those criminals I worked so hard to send to jail, appealing against their convictions because I am now considered unreliable. The office is already swamped.’

  ‘So they haven’t found anything to support your story?’ Jo was dis- heartened.

  ‘The CCTV in the pub shows me talking to some woman and then lurching to the ladies in an intoxicated state, followed shortly after by her. The car park camera didn’t cover where I was parked but the one at the entrance shows my car leaving shortly afterwards. They can’t see who was driving.’

  like these.’ She glanced apologetically at Jo. ‘I know it’s wrong but it’s a fact of life. They would believe that she had tried to use her looks to get a partne
rship and was only complaining because she’d failed. There was no way a prosecution could be successful and I advised her to take it up with the SRA but that she should think carefully about it, because even if she was successful, he would probably only get a reprimand and she would be virtually unemployable as a result.’ Jo was appalled. ‘It’s just the way the world is, Jo; she had to face up to reality.’

  ‘And that’s what you told her.’ It was a statement, not a question from Jo.

  After a brief pause during which they both thought about the dire consequences that could follow sleeping with your boss, Jo asked:

  ‘Do you know what happened to her?’

  ‘No.’ Doreen looked uncomfortable, aware that perhaps she should have followed it up, if not from a professional point of view then from a humanitarian one. ‘I would imagine she was given a handsome pay- off and got herself a job elsewhere. Hopefully, she would have learnt a valuable life lesson.’

  Jo felt Doreen was perhaps being a little harsh on the poor woman. ‘Yes, of course she should not have tried to sleep her way to the top, but knowing Giles, she could have been put under a lot of pressure to do as he wanted. She might even have been threatened with dismissal, or a poor reference that would make moving to another job impossi- ble. Giles was the one in a position of power, and I have absolutely no doubt that he abused that power.’

  Doreen had the good grace to look a little abashed.

  ‘Yes, but it’s not like she was young and inexperienced. She really ought to have known better, and, as a solicitor herself, she also ought to have known that this was unlikely to lead to a successful prosecu- tion.’ She sighed and then suddenly looked up. ‘Fiona, that was it, Fiona Hutchins – that was her name.’

  Jo made a note.

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘About a year ago, roughly.’

  ‘Do you know where she’s working now?’

  Doreen went on to the professional websites again.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be any current position listed for her. Of

  ‘And you remember nothing?’

  ‘No. The blood tests did show Ketamine in my system but I was actually under the drink drive limit for alcohol, so I can’t have been staggeringly drunk as the picture seems to show.’

  ‘Which would indicate that somebody spiked your drink.’

  ‘Yes, or I took some myself, as the police seem inclined to think.’ She gave Jo a stern look. ‘I didn’t though, I can assure you of that.’

  Jo nodded, she didn’t believe the prosecutor would have knowing- ly taken drugs in such a public place either.

  ‘Have the police spoken to the woman who helped you?’ ‘They haven’t been able to find her.’

  ‘Can you describe her?’

  ‘Well, only from the CCTV footage that they showed me. The pic- ture was black and white and not very clear. I could see that she was fat, taller than me, she had no problem helping me off the bar stool. Mid-length straight, darkish hair.’

  ‘And you don’t recognise her at all?’

  ‘No, I’m sure I’ve never seen her before in my life.’ Jo was disappointed.

  ‘I just can’t believe these incidents are coincidences. Someone, for some reason, is setting you all up.’

  ‘I am inclined to agree with you. The question is, why were these particular lawyers picked?’ She put down her coffee and went out of the room, returning moments later with a laptop, legal pad and a mobile phone. Having arranged them all on the kitchen table, she switched on her laptop, picked up a pen and began making notes on the legal pad whilst the computer warmed up.

  ‘Right. Names?’ She looked enquiringly at Jo, who was slightly tak- en aback by this change from defeated to business-like.

  ‘Giles Townsend and Mervyn Bartlett, obviously. Yourself, John Dixon and Adrian Cole.’

  Doreen wrote a name at the top of each page leaving plenty of room to add information about them.

  ‘Dates?’ She wrote the dates of each adverse event next to the names as Jo told her, along with what had happened to each of them. She then turned to the laptop and began searching for information about them in a variety of professional databases that were probably only available to members. She pushed the notepad to Jo.

  ‘Write down the following:’ and she began to read out career infor- mation about everyone on the list, leaving Jo to write it all down under their names and making her feel a little bit like Doreen’s personal as- sistant. She reminded herself that she had approached the prosecutor asking for help, so she could hardly complain and, looking at what she was writing down, Jo knew that she would never have been able to access all this information herself.

  At last, Doreen stopped dictating and turned towards Jo. ‘Anything interesting?’ she asked.

  Jo flipped between the pages.

  ‘John Dixon wasn’t at the SRA at the time of the complaints against Giles Townsend. He’s only been there eighteen months or so, which agrees with what I was told by the police,’ Jo informed her. Doreen looked disappointed but Jo was triumphant, ‘but he was at Wendlesham’s before that, at the same time as Cole. So that definitely links those two cases.’

  They both went through all the other data, checking and rechecking dates and places, but couldn’t find any further connections be- tween all, or indeed any, of the names.

  Jo leant back in her seat and threw down the pencil.

  ‘Damn!’ she said, using the worst expletive she allowed herself. ‘Indeed,’ Doreen agreed, ‘the connection has to be someone who knew them all, rather than direct links between them.’

  ‘And what about you?’ Jo asked, ‘have you perhaps prosecuted someone who links these firms?’

  ‘As I said, I have been going through all my cases for the last fifteen years, and while there are numerous people who might bear a grudge, none who stands out. I think I can honestly say that I have never done any work for or against Wendlesham’s; apart from anything else they are not on my patch, but I promise you I will check. Of course, I have prosecuted many cases where either Giles or Mervyn were the defending council, but never both of them together, and anyway, none of the cases were particularly contentious. Or at least they weren’t from my point of view. I just can’t think why they were both targeted.’

  Jo sipped her coffee, although it was well and truly cold by now, and thought through why both Mervyn and Giles could have been involved.

  ‘Perhaps it’s not a case that links them. Perhaps, as you said ear- lier, it’s a person, someone who worked for them, and who perhaps worked at Wendlesham’s, someone who bears a grudge?’

  Doreen thought for a while and sipped her own coffee before she blanched and sat forward.

  ‘What?’ Jo asked. ‘Did you prosecute a member of staff?’

  ‘No, not prosecute,’ Doreen said, suddenly less sure, ‘I declined to take forward a complaint against Giles by a member of his staff. Oh, what was her name?’

  Jo held her breath.

  ‘She was an associate, hoping to be made partner and went to the police with a complaint of rape against Giles.’

  ‘But you didn’t charge him?’

  ‘No, the story she told me was that he had pressured her into sleep- ing with him for the sake of her career.’

  ‘What?’ Jo was angry. ‘He threatened to sack her if she didn’t sleep with him?’

  ‘No. Not exactly. She actually said that he promised to make her a partner if she did, but then reneged on the deal after the event, and when she complained to him about it and threatened to take action against him for rape, he told her to go ahead because she had no evidence and he in turn would make sure she never worked again.’

  ‘And you told her you wouldn’t prosecute?’

  Doreen Ponting rubbed a spot between her eyes. The pressure, and the wine, must have given her a headache.

  ‘I told her to think very carefully about what she was doing. That I wouldn’t be taking it forward as rape because she admitted that she h
ad agreed to sleep with him, albeit under pressure and false pretenc- es, but that we only had her word for that. He would and did deny it and the jury would not look favourably on someone who, well, some- one who thought she could sleep her way to the top. She wasn’t helped by the fact that she was absolutely stunning. Juries are always more sympathetic towards more ordinary-looking complainants in cases like these.’ She glanced apologetically at Jo. ‘I know it’s wrong but it’s a fact of life. They would believe that she had tried to use her looks to get a partnership and was only complaining because she’d failed. There was no way a prosecution could be successful and I advised her to take it up with the SRA but that she should think carefully about it, because even if she was successful, he would probably only get a reprimand and she would be virtually unemployable as a result.’ Jo was appalled. ‘It’s just the way the world is, Jo; she had to face up to reality.’

  ‘And that’s what you told her.’ It was a statement, not a question from Jo.

  After a brief pause during which they both thought about the dire consequences that could follow sleeping with your boss, Jo asked:

  ‘Do you know what happened to her?’

  ‘No.’ Doreen looked uncomfortable, aware that perhaps she should have followed it up, if not from a professional point of view then from a humanitarian one. ‘I would imagine she was given a handsome pay- off and got herself a job elsewhere. Hopefully, she would have learnt a valuable life lesson.’

  Jo felt Doreen was perhaps being a little harsh on the poor woman. ‘Yes, of course she should not have tried to sleep her way to the top, but knowing Giles, she could have been put under a lot of pressure to do as he wanted. She might even have been threatened with dismissal, or a poor reference that would make moving to another job impossi- ble. Giles was the one in a position of power, and I have absolutely no doubt that he abused that power.’