Next of Sin: A psychological thriller

by Lisa Gordon

  Gaby and Chantelle were listening intently.

  “When you came in the other night and asked me what I had been on about that day, my immediate reaction was: don’t wanna know, don’t wanna get involved. But a coward I am not and after all, it’s you, Gaby. I just hope you realise what you are gettin’ into. It may shock you.”

  “Debs, I promise you nothing could shock me at this stage. If you are concerned about giving me these papers because my father is implicated in some way, I already know,” asserted Gaby firmly.

  Debs did not look shocked. “I wondered if that was maybe why you had asked.”

  “What surprises me,” interjected Chantelle, “is why these high-flying lawyers have committed so much to writin’; surely it’s better to use e-mail and computer files you can just delete.”

  “Some of this stuff goes way back, Luv,” explained Debs. “Fifteen years or more, back to the days before paperless offices. Anyway, paper’s a lot easier to get rid of than e-mail and electronic data: stick it through the shredder and it’s history. Send an e-mail or save a file and you basically need to be a cyber geek to get rid of it. Forget using ‘Delete’; things tend to stay in the system somewhere — a fact that saved me arse many a time I can tell you. There was many days when under the influence of a hangover, I wiped important stuff off ’stead off saving it. I soon learnt that with a small amount of diggin’ and some know-how, yous can always find it again.”

  “So you kept all these pages?” enquired Gaby, nervous, yet excited.

  “Not all, but enough,” smiled Debs. “Have ’em right here in me bag for you.”

  Gaby began to tremble. “Oh my God. I can’t tell you what this means, Debs.”

  Chantelle was quick to put her arm around Gaby. “It means everythin’ to us both, Debs.”

  Debs remained calm and focused despite the release of emotion around her. She could not possibly be aware of the immense impact her audacity and courage would have on so many lives. One day she would know, one day soon. She handed a wad of papers, two inches thick and in varying shades from white to dark yellow to Gaby.

  “There’s some’ing else, Gaby. May not be right of me to tell you, but as you know, I usually say what’s on me mind.”

  “Go ahead,” encouraged Gaby, who was now more composed and clinging on to the paperwork Debs had given her with white knuckles.

  “Week after the accident I come ’round the hospital to see you. You was in ICU, still in a coma. Since I weren’t family, I weren’t allowed in to see you. I chatted to the nurses and they told me that you was stable and they was hopeful. There was one gorgeous blonde nurse from Holland; coulda been a model, she was so attractive. Anyways, I got talkin’ to her. Asked her tow she coped with working in ICU; how did she deal with the tragedy and that. She was tellin’ me how there was a ninety-eight per cent success rate and how thousands just like yourself, Gabs, make total recoveries and walk out of hospital just fine despite the initial prognosis. She said how no one can really predict — not even the best doctors — how brain injuries will turn out. It’s kind of a mystery and only time tells. So, I felt a lot better after talkin’ to her. Went to get a coffee. It was Saturday and since it was my day off, I was in my finest gear: pink hair extensions and the like. Guess I looked like some whack. While I was havin’ my coffee, I noticed your dad and bruver talkin’. I was gonna go up and offer my sympathy and I almost did. I walked right up to them and was about to say some’ing, but they gave me such a look of disgust, I just lost the umph. I tried to pretend I was just walkin’ past them, to get to the loo. I did overhear what they was sayin’ though, and I will never forget it as long as I live. It was the most chillin’ conversation I had ever witnessed.” She took a breath. “They were talkin’ about switchin’ you off. Euthanasia.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Some breaking news here at Sky Centre: we are receiving reports from Agence France Press that Clinton Butler is on a plane heading for England. Our correspondent Alex Lenton is waiting to talk to us in Bangkok. Alex, what do you have for us?

  Yes, Annabelle, we are receiving reports that Mr Butler left Bangkok two hours ago on a British Airways plane bound for Heathrow.

  Have the drugs charges against him been dropped, do we know?

  No word at all from the Thai authorities right now, Annabelle. This has all come as somewhat of a surprise.

  Thank you for now, Alex. We will be crossing to our reporter outside the Foreign Office for more within the hour. Stay tuned to Sky News.

  The Central Line tube rocked from side to side as it made its way slowly out of another tube station; a sea of disappointed faces looked on at the carriages of bodies being whisked into the black hole at the end of the platform. Gaby thought to herself once again how inhumane public transport could be. Chantelle sighed impatiently and gripped the overhead support straps tightly. Gaby was dressed in a smart white linen trouser suit and pointed white high heels. She noted with some pleasure how sophisticated Chantelle looked in her black skirt-suit with Chanel-style jacket and her hair swept into a chignon.

  “Will there be a telly near where we’re goin’, Gabs?”

  “Um,” shrugged Gaby, “should be a pub somewhere with a telly, why?”

  “I got this odd feelin’. I just would feel better if we could see the news quick,” explained Chantelle anxiously.

  “Don’t be neurotic. We only left the hotel half an hour ago; what could have happened?” asked Gaby irritably.

  “What time do we have to be at the Law Society?”

  “Eleven.”

  Chantelle glanced at the beige-leather-strapped DKNY watch Gaby had loaned her. “There’s plenty time then.”

  Gaby and Chantelle strode into The Red Lion Pub, where the wide-screen television was tuned into Sky Sports for the cricket match between England and South Africa. Several men casually dressed in T-shirts and paint-splashed jeans were reclining on the battered vinyl sofas while others were leaning over the bar enjoying pints and pretzels. Gaby approached the barman. “Hello there. Could you possibly switch the TV over to Sky News for a few minutes?” she asked, adding, “It’s very important.”

  “Can’t do that, Luv. The boys are enjoying their cricket.” The burly, sunburnt barman gave her a yellow-toothed smile which was neither friendly nor sincere.

  “Listen, mate,” began Chantelle, pushing her way forward, “it’s just replays what’s on the telly now; they’re on a rain delay. The boys ain’t gonna miss nothin’ anyways.”

  The barman reluctantly reached for the remote control as he addressed his clients loudly, “You don’t mind if I stick it on the news for these two birds, do you?” He received a series of grunts and nods in reply. “Only for five minutes,” he growled, holding up five fingers to emphasise his point.

  As the screen flicked to the news, the girls’ attention was instantly drawn to the yellow and black breaking-news banner running across the bottom of the screen:

  Clinton Butler on plane bound for Heathrow.

  “Oh my God,” gasped an ashen-faced Chantelle.

  Gaby could feel her own blood running through her body like a Siberian stream. “What?” was all she could say. They stood motionless, staring at the screen, waiting for some more developments in what had become their own private horror story.

  We can now cross back to Alex in Bangkok, who has some news for us. Alex?

  Yes, Annabelle, we have been receiving conflicting reports. Some sources say Mr Butler was released as the Thai authorities have dropped the drugs charges; other reliable sources report that Mr Butler is to be charged in the UK. My own personal opinion, Annabelle, is that the Thai authorities would not have released a drugs suspect and allowed him to return home unless there was substantial evidence to refute the charges or, indeed, unless the British government were to press charges of their own. It’s a very confusing situation and we have been unable to obtain official comment or, indeed, confirmation.

  Has Mr Michael Butler QC ma
de any statements, Alex?

  No, we have not heard anything from Michael Butler or his team; he has been rather silent in the past few days. In fact, he has not given one of his daily press briefings for three days. One source suggested he may have returned to the UK.

  Thank you, Alex. We will cross to you immediately should anything new come to light.

  “Hey there, let’s have it ba’ on the creecket,” shouted out one of the punters who was obviously from Yorkshire.

  “Keep your hair on, Darling, they’re playing at Old Trafford: by the time the rain stops they’ll be off for bad light,” answered Gaby with uncharacteristic impertinence, attracting an amazed stare from Chantelle.

  Let’s take you right now to our correspondent Wayne Matthews who is outside the Foreign Office. What are you hearing, Wayne?

  Hello, Annabelle. Our sources inside the Foreign Office are revealing that Mr Butler will indeed be charged once he arrives back in this country; we are not sure what sort of deal was done with the Thai authorities, this is very unusual indeed. I think it is safe to assume he will be tried on drugs-related charges. We are also hearing reports that Michael Butler QC, who is now back in the UK, is delighted with this development and says it is the first step towards ensuring that his son receives proper legal representation, access to the law, fair treatment and justice. He is still vehemently defending his son and insisting he has been the victim of a conspiracy.

  “Okay, put it back on the cricket, I’ve heard enough.” Gaby grabbed Chantelle by the arm and steered her towards the exit.

  “Once Clinton is back here, my father will get him off. The old fraudster and his sinister network have to be disabled.”

  “Okay, as you know, I’m up for anythin’ Gabs. What’s the plan?”

  “Never mind the Law Society, I know of a professor and former judge who is particularly interested in the subject on which my father has become such a dubious expert. I think he will be the perfect person to blow this whole thing out of the water. He has access to cabinet ministers and even the prime minister; you can’t go higher than that, now can you?” Gaby’s attitude was suddenly buoyant and she spoke with confidence.

  Chantelle beamed and patted Gaby on the back. “You always seem to have somethin’ up your sleeve.”

  Gaby and Chantelle made their way across the tarmac towards the pale-yellow Georgian mansion, which was bathed in the generous afternoon sunshine. The grassy banks surrounding the mansion were brown from the heat and lack of rain, and the shrubs too looked thirsty. The newly fitted glass door of the Faculty Office entrance rolled open upon sensing their arrival, and they followed the conspicuous signboards towards a glossy, royal-blue door marked ‘Faculty of Law’. Paul Sutton, Professor of Family Law, was holding an open day for new students. Much to their delight, not many prospective law students had found it necessary to make the trip down; perhaps owing to the lovely August weather, other activities were taking precedence.

  Gaby and Chantelle were effectively third in the queue. Gaby was suddenly a little nervous; she did not know quite where she should start and the memory of the conversation with her father was still fresh in her mind. This time, however, she had concrete evidence to put forward and she already knew that Paul Sutton would be receptive.

  “This is astounding!” he exclaimed as he flicked through the papers while Gaby provided some background commentary. “My claims that there is a massive social experiment on forced adoption were rejected when raised by MPs in parliament, even though they raised a number of individual cases during a Family Law debate this year. This proves my point that the law is being systematically undermined in family courts and that certain high-profile members of the legal system are involved in the corruption. The justice minister declared that the claims were odious; however, this will give my ‘Justice for Families Campaign’ an incredible boost. It’s time to get the press involved. We have uncovered some of the players at the top of this heinous pyramid: a state-sponsored instrument that tears families apart.”

  Sitting on the bed, filled with a mixture of nervous tension and excitement, they waited for the news which, this time, they knew was going to be breaking some time soon.

  This is Sunrise and I am Genevieve Lewisy. We have just received word of a dramatic new twist in the Clinton Butler story, which we have been covering these past two weeks. Michael Butler QC, Clinton’s father, a leading member of the legal fraternity and convener of the ChildFed Society for Child Protection, was arrested early this morning at his home in Solihull. There were further arrests: Mr Jenson Whittaker and Justice Tobias Spelman were arrested at their homes in Marlow — we believe that all three are connected. We will be crossing to our correspondent outside Paddington Green shortly to learn more about the nature of these arrests.

  Oliver, can you tell us more about these developments which have taken everybody by surprise?

  Yes, indeed, Genevieve. Some details are coming through to us, although it is rather difficult for me to articulate, without contravening legal reporting laws, what is now a rather complex unfolding story. This is what I can tell you: it is alleged that Michael Butler, Jenson Whittaker and Tobias Spelman, and possibly more barristers and judges I might add, have been colluding to decide cases on the basis of their own interests, secret briefs, fees and agendas. It is believed that Butler, Whittaker and Spelman forged close links many years ago via their participation in senior Freemasonry and kept their combined activities secret by exploiting the secret network. I cannot confirm at this stage, but we believe that Mr Butler and his co-conspirators have been fraudulently milking the government and the legal-aid system, which has a budget of two billion pounds annually. Their particular area of focus seems to be Child Protection, an area on which ten per cent of legal aid is spent. Experts tell me that in the typical child protection case (also known as a forced-adoption case), £70,000.00 will be paid to the solicitor per child; however, by dragging out the case, they can command hundreds of thousands of pounds.

  This is Kate Mason, Lunchtime Live. We can now speak to Professor Sutton from Clayton University who will be able to cast more light on this subject.

  Professor Sutton, thank you very much for your time, Sir. Please can you tell us more about this issue of forced adoption.

  Hello Kate. Yes, I urged MPs to raise this very serious issue in Parliament earlier this year, but it received a rather hostile reaction from the justice minister who was adamant about the efficacy of the system. Shockingly, a veritable industry had grown up around the fiasco that is forced adoption. An average of six hundred forced adoption cases take place every year. Now these are often bitterly contested cases, where distraught parents have their children removed and placed up for adoption often on the basis of dubious evidence from so-called expert witnesses whose credentials and motivations are highly questionable. To make things worse, twice as many forced-adoption cases each year are not even contested as the parents are either too devastated or are given misleading information by their legal representatives. As I was saying, Kate, an industry has grown up with adoption agencies, fosterers, experts, lawyers and social-services departments all profiting.

  Excuse me, Sir, but are these children not at risk?

  No doubt, Kate, there are children who are at risk; however, what I am campaigning against is the systematic removal of children from their natural parents because the government has set targets for forced adoption. Let me emphasise that in the secret family courts — and I emphasise the word secret as proceedings are not reported — hearings are conducted in private and parents are usually gagged and threatened with imprisonment should they discuss proceedings. Let me emphasise too that parents who are accused of child abuse are assumed guilty unless proven innocent. The secret courts don’t need a criminal conviction to remove children, ONLY the word of a medical expert, who is called by the prosecution and, tragically, parents are rarely allowed to call their own experts. We must remember that these ‘experts’ are paid four-figure sums o
f money for a few hours of their time to testify for the state, which hardly encourages impartiality does it?

  Secret courts in the United Kingdom, Sir? Surely not.

  Family-court proceedings happen in complete privacy and secrecy — that’s the way it is. The idea that children are removed from their natural parents without any reports of the proceedings makes even more important the work that is being undertaken with the family courts and with the important intervention of the Constitutional Affairs Committee.

  But surely, Sir, that privacy is there to protect the children involved.

  While that may have been the raison d’être, Kate, right now it is being exploited and it is being used to destroy families and remove children from their loving parents on flimsy if not fictitious grounds. The secrecy serves the lawyers, judges and social workers who all find the system extremely financially rewarding.

  Professor Sutton …

  Sorry to interrupt, Kate, but I must add that local authorities are rewarded for exceeding adoption targets set by government. Essex County Council, for example, received almost two and a half million pounds as a ‘reward’ for achieving adoption targets. I am pleased to say that, thanks to campaigners, these targets have now been abolished.