Trentbridge Tales Box Set

by Lee Wood

  Chapter Nine

  HIT AND RUN AFTERMATH

  The police circulated a description of the suspected hit and run driver.

  PC Zara Thornton was on patrol with her colleague PC Howard Mitchell when they spotted someone fitting the description just as they noticed the person getting into the passenger side of a Black BMW X5 that had pulled up. The vehicle then sped away. PC Thornton followed as the BMW exceeded the speed limit. It seemed to be heading for Fen Road, and both officers knew what that meant.

  PC Mitchell got on his radio. “I need a PNC check on a Black BMW X5. Registration number VU62 LOX.”

  The vehicle was turning into Water Street, which half a mile down would lead into Fen Road, the area notorious for travellers and where the police never usually entered unless there were a minimum of four officers.

  This close to the sites it was probably not a good idea to stop the vehicle, so the officers decided to follow it.

  A message came through on PC Mitchell’s radio.

  “The vehicle check you requested comes up as Kevin O’Connor, with the address of the Two Oaks Caravan Park, Fen Road. The file is flagged as ‘proceed with caution’.”

  The PC acknowledged the message and told his control they were following the vehicle and requested back up.

  Word about the connection to the traveller site reached the incident room set up to investigate the hit and run. DCI Diana Wakefield was the woman in charge.

  She instructed DS Carla Parsons to contact the council and get a copy of the CCTV footage for the last twenty-four hours from the camera that overlooked the entrance to the site.

  The camera had been installed when the local council spent nearly a million pounds upgrading the road and area leading to the site. There had been a long-running battle with the caravan park residents who claimed the cameras breached their human rights. The council replied that every council estate and the town centre is covered by cameras and this should be no exception.

  A poll in the Trentbridge Times newspaper regarding their installation had shown 91% of the people who answered were in favour of the cameras remaining and the council stuck by their guns.

  The police control room had been in touch with DCI Wakefield to let her know the latest on the citing of the suspect and about the vehicle that had picked him up and its destination.

  She contacted the police officers and informed them to stay just outside the site and await the arrival of DI Eden Gold and DS Tracy Archer who DCI Wakefield was sending to try to interview the suspect.

  Twenty minutes later, two marked and one unmarked police cars slowly entered the private road that led to the Two Oaks caravan site on the left. However, the O’Connor residence was a large detached house on the right-hand side.

  The front door was at the top of eight wide steps with white Roman-style pillars each side and an impressive arch above. There were two bay windows on each side and on the left was a conservatory. It was easily larger than the size of most houses. Every inch of the property looked immaculate.

  Parked on the right were two vehicles: the BMW X5 the two police officers had seen pick up the suspect and a Range Rover Vogue with the latest model number plate.

  DI Eden Gold and DS Tracy Archer walked up to the sixth step and knocked on the door of the large mobile home. The police officers had been told to remain in their cars.

  The door was opened by Mrs O’Connor. “What do you want?”

  “Hello, Mrs O’Connor. We’d like a word with your husband.”

  She folded her arms. “He’s not here.”

  “I suspect he is. I can come back with extra men and turn the place over, but neither of us wants that, do we? So how about you let us in and we speak with him.”

  A voice came from inside. “Let them in, Sadie.”

  The detectives climbed the two final steps and were careful to wipe their feet on the mat.

  “That’s not enough. Take your shoes off,” said Sadie. It wasn’t a request.

  The interior was immaculate. Family photos were much in evidence and little in the way of clutter.

  Kevin O’Connor indicated the sofa where the two detectives could sit. “What can I do for you?” came the terse reply.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your whereabouts earlier today.”

  “I’ve been here all day. Ask the wife.”

  “That’s funny because we have a report and eye witness that places you on Pickstone High Street at around 5.20 this afternoon.”

  “The witness description fits you: five foot eight tall with greasy black hair, blue jeans, white Nike trainers, a Manchester United t-shirt and a small scar under the left eye.”

  “Naw. I told you. I’ve been here all day. Never moved.”

  “Do you own a Ford Kuga 4x4 registration number VU62 LOX?”

  “No. A BMW. You can’t miss it. Parked right outside.”

  “Okay, Mr O’Connor. As I said, we have an eye witness to the incident. We’ll need you to accompany us to the police station.”

  “Not me. The football’s on the telly. I’m going nowhere.”

  “At the moment I’m simply asking you to accompany us. But if you prefer I can arrest you. Then we’ll need to send in the boys with big boots to turn over every inch of the place. Who knows what we’ll find hidden away. By the way. You haven’t asked what all this is about. You’re not curious? Most people would be.”

  “Not me. Keep myself to myself.”

  “So what’s it to be Mr O’Connor? Will you come for a friendly chat or do I send it the boys with size eleven boots to trample over everything and upset your wife.”

  The DI walked out of the house with Kevin O’Connor and over to the nearest police car.

  He spoke to the uniformed police officers. “Thanks for the back-up. We’re on our way now. No need for you to hang around.”

  Chapter Ten

  WILL GLEESON - WITNESS

  Back on Pickstone High Street, the ambulance had taken away the two young hit and run victims to the mortuary, and the police forensic team had moved in.

  The police had cordoned off the road, and the four members of the forensics team were carefully going over every inch of the 4x4 vehicle, taking samples and checking every surface for clues to help identify the driver.

  Two police officers were going from shop to shop, checking to see if there were any CCTV recordings covering where the incident had taken place or the possibility they might help identify the driver leaving the scene.

  Unfortunately, budget cuts meant the council CCTV system that covered the high street in Pickstone had been under repair for the past three weeks, and no footage was available.

  The forensics team spent time examining the 4x4 as much as they could. Then it was arranged for a vehicle recovery truck to load the 4x4 and cover it, under supervision of a member of the forensics team and take it to the police examination garage where forensics could spend more time going over the vehicle millimetre by millimetre in the hope of finding DNA, fingerprints or fibres to prove who was driving at the time of the fatal incident.

  Kevin O’Connor was taken to the police station for questioning. He was asked to surrender the clothes he was wearing and also asked to attend an identity parade at Trentbridge police station and had been picked out immediately by the witness Will Gleeson.

  Kevin was arrested and charged with Death by Dangerous Driving. He was let out on bail to appear at the magistrate’s court to decide where the case would be heard.

  His lawyer would try to have the case heard in a magistrates court where the penalties were lower. However, the prosecution was pushing for the matter to be held at Crown Court.

  At the initial hearing, the magistrate felt the matter was grave enough it should be heard by the Crown Court. A date was set for Monday the 1st of October.

  With the witness statement and all the evidence building up, the prosecution was confident of a conviction.

  Chapter Eleven

  MONEY P
ROBLEMS

  Will Gleeson had been watching the evening news. One of the main stories was about his bank, the TSB. It appeared the bank, in its wisdom, had decided to change its IT system and it had all gone wrong.

  He listened as the reporter outside the bank’s HQ went over the story:

  “It has been several weeks since the IT switchover that has caused a crisis at the bank.

  But there still appear to be online payment problems for frustrated TSB customers.

  Some current account customers and some business clients are still facing problems making internet or app payments. The bank said experts from computing giant IBM, called in during the first week of the fiasco, would remain ‘for as long as it takes’ to fix the errors. It has not estimated how long it will be until services return to normal.

  The ongoing problems come in a week when some customers have reported fraudsters emptying their accounts. In addition, some customers who have switched away from the bank have reported receiving letters suggesting they have died.

  According to a spokesperson for the bank it is ‘working around the clock’ to fix the problems.

  Social media has gone crazy with people saying they are worried over payments when they have tried to move money or draw out cash from a hole in the wall. The bank has even closed a lot of its high street branches.”

  So when he received an urgent call from his bank, Will wasn’t surprised. They informed him that someone had tried to access his account and take out money. Thankfully it had been caught in time by the bank’s security system. They just needed to check a few security questions. The young lady asked for his mother’s maiden name and for the first and third number of his pin number.

  “Sorry, my system’s being a bit slow. As you may be aware, we had a large IT crash earlier, but everything is under control now. Yes. It’s back. I apologise I didn’t quite get those last details. Can I have the second and last numbers of your pin? Yes, that’s fine, Mr Gleeson. Everything is secure now. No need to worry. Thank you for your understanding.”

  Will put down his mobile. Unscrupulous people were obviously taking advantage of the situation. It was lucky the bank had caught things in time.

  He could have lost the £6,000 it had taken him nearly a year to save by working overtime when it was available and an extra part-time job as a member of the security team at the local football club. It was a job he enjoyed although he wasn’t particularly a big football fan, but he liked the challenges of the work. The money was to buy a second-hand car for his son, who lived with his mother.

  Will promised he would buy him one if he did well at his exams. Buying a decent car would cost £5,000, and because his son was a young driver, the insurance would be an extra £1,000.

  Will identified Kevin O’Connor from the police identity parade as being the man he recalled seeing as the driver of the Black Ford Kuga 4x4 who had knocked down and killed the two young girls on Pickstone High Street just a few days earlier.

  He gave the police a full statement and with no previous convictions or as far as the police could find no blemishes to his character; he would be an outstanding witness for them. The fact he told them about the training course the football club had sent him on, and his eye for detail only added to his credibility and the police were confident of getting a guilty verdict.

  The mood at Trentbridge police station was high. They had been after Kevin O’Connor for years, but he had always managed to elude them. The only time he had ended up in court was when the local Trading Standards office had managed to prove he had undertaken shoddy building work and ripped off elderly pensioners for tens of thousands of pounds.

  Will Gleeson was having a bad day. A very bad day. It was 9 p.m. and he was just about to leave work and head for the off licence and buy himself a large bottle of whiskey.

  He was locking the back door of the factory where he worked as a security guard, to walk over to his car, when he was suddenly approached by two men.

  “Hello, Mr Gleeson. We’ve come to talk to you about the witness statement you gave to the police recently.”

  Initially, for a few brief seconds, Will thought they were police officers. But having the chance to look them up and down he realised they were both too young to be plain-clothed officers. Their appearance seemed more likely to be of the criminal fraternity. He noticed the tattoos and designer clothes.

  The older man moved close and growled, “We want you to forget what you saw. Tell them you’ve had second thoughts and can’t be sure. Tell them you can’t be certain it was the right man you picked out.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.”

  “Things could get really nasty if you stick to your story. You know what I’m saying. We may have come to visit you at your place of work, but we know where you live and wouldn’t want to see any harm come to you, like your house burning down.”

  “Listen, you piece of shit. I’m not scared of you and threats won’t deter me from giving evidence. If you really want me to forget, then it’s going to cost you. I need six grand, take it or leave it. Come back with the cash, and I’ll have a sudden memory loss, but your threats will only help my memory. Got it?”

  What Will Gleeson was telling them obviously threw the two men. They backed away and as they did, all the younger one could say was, “We’ll be back.”

  Will Gleeson didn’t really want to go back on his statement, but recent events had put him in a bad situation. The previous day his TSB bank account had been hacked after he received a phone call from a young lady who told him she was from their fraud prevention department.

  Then that morning when he went to pay for petrol on his way to work, his debit card was declined. He found out his bank account had been emptied and the entire balance of six thousand two hundred and eighty-two pounds had been taken, leaving him twenty-seven pence in credit.

  He had been on the phone to them for over an hour trying to find out what had happened. But his bank had refused to reimburse him as they said he had given out his pin number and other details. He then phoned the police but they had told him there was nothing they could do. So they were not exactly his favourite people.

  He replayed the phone call in his mind. The female fraudster had been very good. He’d given her the first and third numbers of his pin. Then she had told him there had been a hiccup. “Sorry, my systems being a bit slow. We had a large IT failure earlier, but everything is under control now. Yes. It’s back. I apologise I didn’t quite get those last details. Can you give me the second and last numbers of your pin?”

  Of course. By doing that she’d tricked him into revealing all four numbers and with that information they had drained his account, leaving him penniless and the bank was now saying it was ‘all his fault’.

  He had given his statement of the accident because it was the right thing to do. But having suffered at the hands of criminals and then been told by the police that nothing could be done had played on his mind. So why should he do them a favour when they weren’t prepared to do anything to help him?

  He worked bloody hard for that money. And if he didn’t get it back he would have to let down his son who was due to get his exam results the following month and on the back of good results was expecting a car.

  Will had been on social media and it seemed lots of people were in the same boat. Their accounts had been hacked and the bank was saying it was nothing to do with them. Lots of posts on Facebook were saying the bank’s initials TSB stood for Totally Shit Bank.

  This opportunity held a chance of getting his money back and be able to keep his promise to his son. All he had to do was hold his nerve and pretend he wasn’t frightened by the threats, although inside he was petrified.

  He lived alone. His wife had left fourteen months earlier after he came home early one day not feeling well at work and found her ‘moaning her head off’ in their bed with one of her work colleagues.

  The guy was big, over six feet tall, with muscles on his muscles; otherwise Will wou
ld have hit him. Reporting their activities to the company they worked for and telling the man’s wife had at least given Will some satisfaction.

  It appears they had run off to Bournemouth together. Good riddance. The only thing Will missed was his son.

  Will drove home, thinking of the best way to proceed.

  After putting a frozen curry in the oven, he sat down at the kitchen table.

  As he sat deep in thought, the oven timer went off, and the strong flavours of his packet curry for one filled his nostrils. His 900-calorie meal was ready.

  Now all he had to do was wait to see if the men came back with his money.

  Chapter Twelve

  CROWN COURT TRIAL - DAY ONE

  The first day of the trial was taken up by all the formal legalities involved in such a case.

  The local press had sent a reporter and photographer to cover the event, and they took up position outside the court to interview people and take photographs of everyone they could.

  Kevin O’Connor arrived surrounded by family and friends, shielding him from the photographer as much as they could.

  Inside the court an official read out the charges before her honour Judge Nicola Hargreaves:

  1. That on the 7th of July 2018 at Pickstone High Street you drove a vehicle in such a manner as to cause the deaths of two people, namely Julie Ann Maynard and Sarah Rose Parks.

  2. That on the same date you left the scene of the accident, which is an offence under Section 170 of the Road Traffic Act 1988.