by Ami Snow
He was also popular with the Judges for his attention to detail and no nonsense approach with his clients. He never sugar coated their options, if they had little or no case he told them so and suggested a guilty plea he would try and bargain into the lowest penalty available, and he was consistently successful at it.
“Dad this is Kathy, can you call Mum for me and tell her I won’t be in for dinner, a deposition has been filed incorrectly and I must drive to Newcastle tonight and fetch the amended document because we need it in court first thing.”
“Yes of course darling, are you ok or shall I ask your brother to go with you?”
Laughingly I responded,
“I would be asleep in an hour, mesmerized by his snoring.”
Chagrined Dad agreed and said that he hadn’t quite though that all the way through. Still grinning at the irony of sending my brother to keep me awake when road trips always sent him to sleep almost immediately, I stepped on the gas and entered the four lanes of traffic crossing the ‘Coathanger’, the nickname we Sydneysiders have for the iconic and beautiful Sydney Harbor Bridge
Leaving early had been an excellent plan and I reached the outer suburbs and the motor way connecting the two cities within the hour. If I had left thirty minutes later it would have taken me double that.
I actually enjoyed driving my car outside the always bustling and extremely busy city limits. It had been a gift from my Father when he made partner in the law firm where he had worked for almost twenty years, a four wheel steer Honda Prelude two door sports.
A slight touch on the gas and the little car scorched up to the 110 kilometer limit instantly and just purred along. I flipped on the cruise control and slid a ‘Drifters’ CD into the player and relaxed to enjoy the drive.
“Oh hello Miss Donaldson,”
Garrick greeted me at the door.
“Please come in, my Dad has the amended document in his office.”
I followed the 19 year old into their beautiful home and through to his architect Father’s well-appointed office.
“Yes Brett she has just arrived would you like to talk to her,”
Brett Hoskins was my Boss, obviously he declined as Rick Anderson, Garrick’s Dad, hung up the phone and greeted me.
“Hello Kathy, nice to see you again, we are really very sorry to put you and Brett to so much trouble but we didn’t realize the deposition was incorrect until lunch time today and I was lucky to get it to court in time to have it amended this afternoon.”
After assuring Rick it was ok and that I really had enjoyed the drive they invited me to share a meal with them before I started back.
“Kathleen, what is going to happen to Garrick tomorrow, I am so worried I can’t sleep?”
Ilene Anderson was a doting Mother, perhaps too much so. Garrick was an only child in a very privileged family and whilst a decent enough boy he was some-what spoiled. He had been out with some friends and had too much to drink and went joyriding in a vehicle that had allegedly been stolen. It was a serious charge with a very possible custodial sentence.
“Irene there is nothing to be concerned about, tomorrow is just a plea hearing and will be over in about thirty minutes and Garrick’s bail will be renewed and he should be released from the police station into Rick’s custody in about two hours.”
Leaving an obviously much relieved Irene after thanking her for dinner I set off on the return trip.
Thinking about Garrick’s case I went over some of the aspects of it to keep it fresh in my mind, as I always do with current and pending cases. This was one time when his wealthy family’s money was not going to save him as it had in the juvenile system he had run afoul of in some misdemeanors prior to turning eighteen.
Brett had made no bones about telling him that this was the big league and he was in serious trouble. He had tried to convince the Andersons to have Garrick plead guilty but to no avail.
“I don’t want my son to start his adult life with a criminal record Brett,” Rick had argued. “You are the best Layer in the country and I don’t care what it costs, just get him off, please!”
Promising nothing but to do his best, Brett had taken the case and I had interviewed all the other boys involved looking for a loophole, but so far the Police case looked water tight.
“Hello Mum, I have left Newcastle and I am on my way home. Yes don’t worry I am fine and actually enjoying the drive. It is great to be on a motor way and not in gridlock.”
My Mum was a worrier so I always keep her in the loop and keep my voice light and stress free when chatting with her.
“Yes the Andersons insisted I eat with them before starting back Mum don’t worry,” I responded to her query about whether I had eaten. “Please don’t wait up for me it will be well after 2AM before I get in. You promise me now.”
Anyone hearing this conversation could be forgiven for wondering just who was the parent here, I thought to myself as I ended the call and flipped off the car phone.
It was the latest thing in technological communication devices and was operated from tabs attached to my steering wheel, Brett had it installed for me before the car was delivered. At the time I thought it a wonderful gift but in hindsight it was an extremely intelligent work tool for him. It kept us in immediate touch almost anywhere in the country where there was coverage.
I spent a good deal of any working week doing Brett’s leg work which meant driving a lot, usually in the confines of the CBD. I was a well-known visitor at the local lock-up and in the courts and criminal research facilities.
He had offered me a deal, a company car or a generous car/expense allowance package; my car was such a delight to drive and still a novelty so I opted for the latter.
“Hello Sir,” I answered the car phone and recognized Brett’s caller ID.
“Is everything alright Kathleen? Please, if you are the least bit fatigued book into a road side motel on your expense account and come on down in the morning after some rest.”
This is why my boss is so popular, he is thoughtful and considerate, not a common characteristic among those of his profession I had discovered during my years as his assistant
Assuring him as I had my Mother that all was fine and dandy he thanked me again and rang off saying he would see me in the morning.
Readjusting the volume on my CD player I went back to reviewing Garrick’s case notes in my mind.
Garrick’s five co-respondents were all at least one year his junior and would appear in the children’s court as minors. Garrick was the only one to be tried as an adult and consequently faced the most severe penalties.
I had personally interviewed all five, three in juvenile detention centers after being refused bail because of a multitude of previous convictions.
Garrick had repeatedly claimed that he had absolutely no knowledge that the car was stolen until the police chased and apprehended them. However all five had stated to me that he was told before getting into it and had still done so.
This was, of course, the most damning testimony for him. It meant he was charged with car conversion the same as the driver and thief because of it, and not the lesser charge of riding in a stolen vehicle, which was what four of his co-respondents had been charged with.
Something was nagging at the back of my mind; I was positive something was amiss in this case but couldn’t put my finger on it. I know Garrick is no angel but there is nothing to indicate any dishonesty in his past juvenile record, and having met both his parents I am inclined to agree with them in believing he is telling the truth and actually didn’t know the vehicle was stolen.
He had a couple of charges for putting graffiti on public buildings and one for breaking-and-entering when he placed a stink bomb in a teacher’s house who had given him an adverse report card. Each time he had been co-operative with the police and not lied about anything.
If it were only his word against another person’s we could contest the evidence and suggest that it was a lie or misunderstanding on hi
s part. But with all four of them stating exactly the same thing this was not a viable option.
Good grief!. That was IT!!
That was what was nagging at the back of my mind. All four statements in the regard of Garrick knowing beforehand that he was riding in a stolen vehicle were EXACTLY the same. Utilizing my awesome memory skills now I pulled each statement into my mind.
I am excited now; I know I am on the right track. The same person had coached these boys and told each of them to say the same thing. Now all I had to find out was if it was an attorney or the police. Either or would get us an acquittal I think. The boys were using public defenders as they were all from lower socio-economic backgrounds and Queen’s Counsel of Brett’s stature were way beyond their means.
Many legal aid solicitors who did this pro bono work for the court systems were qualified of course, but usually two far down the rungs of the ladder to be accepted into the larger law firms and struggled along defending people who could not afford more.
Therefore they did not have as much to lose as a colleague with a view to future partnership would have if he sullied his career with a “coaching a witness” charge.
Alternatively, a busy detective with a prohibitive case load and wanting to get a conviction could just as easily coach a witness. The juvenile system can be really frustrating to the police force. Too many times they serve the public in a dangerous and difficult job on the front line and spend days formulating a substantial and airtight case and a clever lawyer will plead an abusive childhood or drug addiction and promise better behavior in the future, resulting in a five minute scolding by a judge and then a slap on the hand type penalty and they are released back into society and in many cases reoffend almost immediately.
But having rationalized the reasons for it here, ‘coaching’ is still illegal and if discovered can be penalized severely and almost always works in the defendant’s favor. I am sure this is what has occurred. Every statement is totally different in its content reflecting the standards of education and relative ages of the four boys and yet the paragraphs pertaining to Garrick’s pre-knowledge are almost all identical.
“Sorry to call so late Sir but I believe I have discovered something that may be relevant to your appearance for Garrick in the morning,”
Although it is almost midnight this is too important not to share with Brett immediately due to the time he has remaining to prepare.
I ran my suspicions by him quoting each of the boy’s statements verbatim from memory. He has heard me do this on too many occasions to be awed by it any more.
“By George Kathleen, that is exactly what I needed to get the lad off. Well done my girl, well done indeed.”
Even at 28 years of age my toes still tingle when Brett or Dad are so free with their gratitude.
“I will need the originals of those statements and their police confessions with me in the morning. Do you think you could come in a little earlier, I am so very sorry to ask after your long drive but if we cross all the Tees and dot all the eyes I will have that boy scot free with no record by 10.30 in the morning.”
“It will be my pleasure Sir,” I happily acquiesce, “I have grown quite fond of that family and I genuinely believe Garrick has learned a lesson and grown up considerably in the past few months. Even I have noticed a different sense of respect in him toward his parents and he seems calmer and less confidently obnoxious if you know what I mean?”
“I quite agree Kathleen; I have noticed a change in the boy myself. Let us hope for his parent’s sake he is actually one of the few who do not become recidivists and that go on to lead responsible and productive lives.”
On that happy not we rang off each feeling a little more relaxed about Garrick’s plea hearing.
“BANG!!!!”
The explosion sounded like a gunshot and the steering wheel was almost wrenched out of my hands as my right front tire blew out. The engaged cruise control was increasing the engine’s revs to maintain the 110 kilometer setting as I fought to keep the car upright and bring it back to my side of the road. I flipped it off and downshifted before gently pumping the brakes as Dad had taught me to do should this situation ever arise.
Regaining control, but with the car vibrating and the steering wheel bucking in my hands, I managed to bring it to a stop in the emergency lane and switched off the ignition. Then for around a full minute reaction and shock set in and I just sat and shook.
“Hi Uncle Herbert, this is Kathy. I am so sorry to wake you but I have an emergency and was wondering if you can help me?”
Herbert Kingsley is my Dad’s closest friend and owns firm of recovery vehicles, including a fleet of tow trucks.
Fully awake now Herb asks, “What is the problem Curly and what is your 10/4.”
Curly is his pet name for me since like forever, and I knew enough of his tow truck jargon to understand 10/4 is current position or address.
I am approximately an hour up the Newcastle motor way with a blown right front tire and the wheel nuts are just too tight for me to loosen Uncle Herbert, I have tried and tried,”
Recognizing I was tired and frustrated and even a little scared Uncle Herb revved directly into damage control.
“Hey Curly when did old Herb not fix you when you get hurt? You just leave the engine running with heater on, lock the doors and I listen to that beautiful CD player and I will get my nearest tilt-tray out to you ASAP and he can hoist you up and you can sleep the rest of the way home. How’s that now? Is that a great offer or is that a great offer?”
He laughed his big hearty laugh and I was calm instantly.
“Thanks Uncle Herb, just tell the driver to knock my window and wake me when he gets here. I love you, bye.”
Thoroughly relaxed now that help was forthcoming I lay my seat back and closed my eyes as the drifters sang ‘Under the Boardwalk,’ and before it was finished the long day had taken its toll and I slid into a deep sleep.
“She doesn’t seem to be moving, do you think she’s dead or something?”
“Nah she ain’t dead, look closely, her tits are moving.”
“Crikey mate you’re dead right they are, and bloody nice tits too.”
Through the grey fog of slow awakening from deep slumber awareness reasserts itself and Kathleen sits bolt upright to be confronted by two pimply faced youths ogling her through the windscreen. Backlit by the headlights of an old Holden HQ sedan her clinical mind takes note of grimy hands and faces and dirty unwashed clothes.
“Hey missy you got a problem? Open the door and we can help you with it.”
The taller one of the duo spoke and at the same time made lewd suggestions by rocking his hips back and forth. The shorter guy laughed out loud disclosing a mouth with half the teeth missing and a pierced tongue with a large stud through it.
“After Mitch’ here is done you can get a taste of this too,” he giggled with his tongue fully extended and then he wiggled his stud up and down.
Realizing that she must not disclose her fear Kathleen stated calmly,
“No It is ok thank you the police are almost here and will call me a tow truck.”
“We will call you a lot more than a tow-truck you lying whore,” spat the taller guy. “We just saw the local pig on the way here and he was going in the other direction. Now open that fucking door before we kick it in.”
Almost frozen with fear Kathleen had the presence of mind to remember her fancy state of the art radio car phone had a police emergency button which notified the police that she was in danger and sent her exact position by satellite.
Even as the guys were pulling at the door handles she kicked off a show and holding tight to the armrest in case they sprung her door open somehow she hit the button with her toe.
“Alec go and get the wheel wrench out of the trunk of the HQ, we’ll smash her fucking window the smart cunt,” screamed the one called Mitch in frustrated rage being unable to open her door.
As Alec moved away from the front of the c
ar Kathleen slammed it into gear and hit the accelerator. The rear wheel ran over Mitch’s foot and in a fit of profanity and pain he sat on the ground massaging it. Kathleen rammed the throttle to the floor and the little car staggered and bucked along the emergency lane.
Limping to the HQ Mitch yelled at Alec, “Get into the fucking car, if that slut doesn’t stop that fucking rice burner I’ll ram her off the fucking road.”
Not able to control her car at more than twenty kilometers an hour the HQ was almost upon her when flashing lights appeared around the bend and tilt tray did a sliding U turn and clipping the old car sent it careering off the road and then skidded to a stop 100 meters in front of her.
“Hey Curly, pull up and whoa girlie,” Grinned Herb. Slamming the brakes on Kathy leapt from the car and ran sobbing into his arms. So terrified she was almost incoherent as she reiterated the men’s threats. Red faced and furious Herb picked her up and put her in the truck cab then reached behind it and pulled out a two foot steel bar.
“Wait here a minute Curly; the cops are less than a minute away. I will be right back.”
Without waiting for any reply Herb loped into the bush towards the stranded HQ. Seeing the huge irate drive running at them with his weapon raised the shoe was on the other foot. The terrified men locked all the doors and lay on the floor.
With his first mighty blow Herb shattered the driver’s window and reaching down and grabbed Mitch by his long greasy hair and yanked him back through it. Dropping the bar he closed his massive fist and drove it into the sobbing coward’s long nose. Hearing a satisfying crunch as it shattered he dropped the unconscious man on the ground and reaching through the window again opened the back door and hauled Alec out by his feet.
Herb could hear the wail of the police siren now, so raising his steel capped boot he brought it down with all strength on the filthy man’s genitals. Disregarding the horrendous screaming he hurried back to the Prelude and began hooking it up.
Pulling up behind the Prelude the two policemen walked up to Herb and enquired why the emergency police beacon had been activated. Continuing to hook up the big man said the driver was in a state of shock in the tow truck but if they were gentle she could answer that question.
