‘Really? That’s strange.’
‘Could you have made a mistake?’ Daniel asked, feeling his eyes wide from the panic, but still trying to relax in front of her.
‘Well no, I mean … that’s your mother’s official death certificate. Are you sure she died in 1988?’
‘Yeah … ’ he said, and then, ‘no … ’
‘Well, I expect it’s right then.’
‘How do I find out if she’s got a memorial?’
‘You need to talk to the council, remember.’
The girl smiled, pursing her lips in apology. Daniel turned and left. When he was outside the certificate was creased in his hand, although he hadn’t meant to crush it.
Daniel waited for the council offices to open. His stomach rumbled and cramped, but he paid no attention to it. He sat on the steps for ten minutes then walked around the block before returning. Three times he read the sign which said it was closed between one and two o’clock.
When it opened, he was directed to Bereavement Services, where he had to wait for twenty minutes despite being the first person in line.
‘I want to find out if my mother has a memorial – I think she was cremated … I have her death certificate.’
‘What’s her name?’
Daniel waited in a plastic chair, his stomach muscles so tight that they began to ache. He had forgotten about university. This was all he cared about.
He expected to have to fill in more forms, to show his identification or to part with money. The woman returned within a few minutes. She told him that his mother’s name was not on any of the cremation lists. She had double-checked and found that his mother had been buried at the Jesmond Road Cemetery.
Daniel thought that he had thanked her, but then she asked him loudly if he was all right. He was standing with his fingers holding on to the desk and the death certificate crushed in his hand.
Off the Jesmond Road, Daniel saw the graveyard. He had bought carnations as an afterthought and carried them in a plastic bag, petals facing the ground.
The entrance reared up in front of him: a red sandstone arch which was at once beautiful and terrifying. He stood outside for a moment, kicking small stones out of his path. He found himself drawn into the red arch and once inside the need to go deeper was powerful. He didn’t know where she lay or if he would find her, but as soon as he entered he felt a hard peace fall on him. His heart was quiet. He moved from grave to grave looking for her name. He searched methodically, carefully, without frustration when another row of graves passed without finding her name inscribed, and without pre-emptive relief when he found graves on which were carved similar names.
Finally, just after four o’clock, he found her: Samantha Geraldine Hunter 1956–1993. May You Rest in Peace.
Already, the black-painted letters were beginning to flake. Daniel tried to imagine her, with her thin shoulders and her long nails. She was a child in his imagination. He thought how young she had been when he saw her last.
He stood for a moment, and then knelt, feeling the grass wet through his jeans. He wiped some new raindrops from the marble, imagining her small bones beneath. He laid the carnations at the foot of the cross.
1993. She had died only months before. He would have been less than an hour from her, when her time came. He could have come to her; he could have helped her, but she had died without knowing that he was near. She had got clean the year that she lost him. He wondered if she had been getting clean so that she could have him back. His eighteenth birthday had come and gone. Maybe she had lost hope. Maybe she had thought he had another family and no longer remembered her.
Someone must have paid for her headstone; someone must have chosen the white marble and decided on the words. He remembered the name on the death certificate: Informant – Michael Parsons. Daniel recalled all the names and faces that had surrounded his mother’s life. He hung his head. The breath was uneven in his throat yet he couldn’t weep. The grief he felt for her was small and fragile. It was grief confused with so much else. Invisible birds sang with a noise that seemed deafening.
Daniel stood up. He was aware of a sharp pain in his head. He turned and walked out of the graveyard, his feet crunching on the red chips with purpose after his slow and patient discovery. The sun was bright and in his eyes. His muscles were tight and he could feel a cold tear of sweat making its way between his shoulder blades.
He remembered the day Minnie told him his mother was dead and pressed his lips together. His jaw ached.
He was going back to Brampton, and he was going to kill her.
27
Daniel flashed his pass to the Old Bailey guards as he entered the courthouse. Today was the first day of the defence. He held his chin up as he walked to Court Thirteen, reminding himself of the reprieve implicit in reasonable doubt. He realised that this was the first time in his career he had actually felt real fear about the prospect of losing. He hated Sebastian’s family and worried about the child returning to that world of material privilege and emotional deprivation, but the thought of Sebastian inside, in the system, was worse. Bright as the child was, he didn’t realise how the press had already demonised him and how difficult it would be for him, for the rest of his life, if he was found guilty. Daniel tried not to think about it. He believed in Irene’s abilities. She had not lost a single case since their defeat together on Tyrel’s case last year.
‘My lord, I call Dr Alexander Baird.’
Baird seemed as nervous as when Daniel had visited the psychologist in his office. He leaned in too close to the microphone as he was sworn in and was startled by the feedback. Irene was matter-of-fact, beginning her examination in chief. She smiled broadly at Baird, making large sweeping gestures to the court, as she asked him to share his thoughts on Sebastian.
‘Dr Baird, you examined Sebastian Croll twice in September 2010. Is that correct?’
‘Correct.’
‘I would ask you to summarise for the court how you found Sebastian.’
Baird moved close in to the microphone, his smooth hands loosely gripping the lip of the witness box. ‘In terms of intellectual function, I found him to be highly intelligent. His IQ was measured at 140 which certainly suggests very superior intelligence, or indeed borderline genius – but certainly highly gifted.’
‘What did you find about Sebastian’s emotional maturity and his understanding of complex processes, for example, court proceedings?’
‘Well, Sebastian seems to have quite a short attention span, which may in itself be due to his high intelligence, but I did find him prone to emotional outbursts more typical of a younger child.’
‘You questioned him about the alleged offence. What was your opinion about Sebastian in relation to the charge?’
‘Sebastian knew the difference between right and wrong. He understood the nature of the alleged offence and stated convincingly that he believed himself to be innocent.’
‘Did you discuss the happenings on the day of the alleged offence?’
‘Yes, we did and we attempted some role play around the events of that day. On the whole I found him to be entirely consistent. His concept of morality was clear and he stated several times that he was innocent.’
‘Considering his intellectual ability, did you feel he understood the gravity of the crime he was charged with?’
‘Without a doubt. He was clear that he understood the penalties for such a crime, but felt he had been misunderstood. We discussed the events of 8 August several times in a variety of different ways: telling a story, using dolls or question and answer sessions, but each time he was entirely consistent.’
‘Thank you, Dr Baird.’
Irene nodded at Daniel before she sat down. Gordon Jones rose and stood for a moment as the court watched him opening ring binders and balancing them on his lectern. The room was airless and Daniel loosened his tie slightly. The defence had begun well and Irene seemed relaxed, but Daniel had an explicable feeling of unease about the evidence
to come. Sebastian was losing interest. He was swinging his feet and occasionally making contact with Daniel’s legs.
‘Just a few questions, Dr Baird,’ said Jones, on cross-examination. ‘In your report you mention Sebastian’s earlier diagnosis, by his school educational psychologist, of Asperger’s?’
Sebastian leaned in to whisper something but Daniel held out a hand to silence him.
‘Yes, Sebastian’s school reports show an earlier diagnosis by an educational psychologist. I disagreed with the diagnosis.’
‘But you do consider him as having … ’ Jones made a show of pushing his glasses to the end of his nose, wrinkling his nose and turning down his lips as he read: ‘Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified?’
Baird smiled and nodded. ‘Indeed, otherwise PDD-NOS – essentially a catch-all diagnosis for those who demonstrate atypical symptomatology for Asperger’s, or indeed autism.’
‘I see. Well, in layman’s terms please, what is this exactly … eh … PDD-NOS and how does it relate to the earlier diagnosis?’
‘Well, it simply means that Sebastian does show a range of Asperger’s traits, but not all … and indeed is highly functional in areas we would expect him to have trouble with, if he had Asperger’s syndrome proper.’
‘I see. Asperger’s is a kind of high-functioning autism, is that correct?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘And what symptoms are typical of a child with Asperger’s syndrome?’
‘Well, typically they will display problems in three main areas: social communication, social interaction and social imagination.’
Irene stood up. ‘My lord, I question the relevance of this. Does my learned colleague have a point to this questioning?’
Baron leaned forward and raised his eyebrows at Jones in expectation of a response.
‘My lord, we are legitimately exploring the implications of disorders from which the boy may suffer that may be related to the offence.’
‘Continue,’ said Baron. ‘I consider this to be relevant.’
‘You just listed three areas which typical Asperger’s sufferers would have difficulty with – can you elaborate on this?’ Jones prompted Baird.
‘Well, typical sufferers will display a range of behaviours, such as difficulty in social situations. This often manifests in a desire for friendships but a difficulty in maintaining them. Often there is a hyper-focused interest in a single topic … They tend to have difficulty in reading emotional responses in others. Another thing is that they often have problems with sensory integration – they can overreact to loud noises, for example.’
Irene stood up again. ‘My lord, I really must protest. The witness has stated my client does not have Asperger’s so again I question the relevance of exploring the typical symptomatology.’
‘Miss Clarke, the witness has stated that the defendant shows a range of Asperger’s traits so we will hear this out as explanation of the traits in question.’
Irene sat down. Daniel watched her. Her shoulders were raised with tension.
‘Thank you, m’lord,’ said Jones. ‘So, tell us, Dr Baird, does Sebastian display any of these typical Asperger’s behaviours and problems?’
‘Yes, he displays some, but not all.’
‘What about hyper-focus on one topic. Did you find Sebastian to be deeply interested in a particular subject … ?’
Baird flushed. He glanced at Irene.
‘Dr Baird?’
‘Well, I did note a preoccupation … but I was not sure if this qualified as hyper-focused interest. I would need to study him over a longer period.’
‘I see … What, exactly, did you find preoccupies Sebastian?’
Hearing his name spoken in such a momentous tone, Sebastian sat up. He looked up at Daniel and smiled.
‘He has what one might call a morbid curiosity.’
‘In what way? What things, exactly, is he morbidly curious about?’
‘He seemed very interested in blood, death and injury … On this, again, I cannot be sure, I would have to study his behaviour further, but I would cite a discussion that we had about his mother’s miscarriage.’
‘Why did this alarm you?’
Irene was on her feet. ‘My lord, I really must protest: my learned colleague is putting words into the witness’s mouth. He has not stated that he was alarmed in any way.’
Jones nodded at Irene and then rephrased his question: ‘Tell us what the conversation relating to his mother’s miscarriage revealed, Dr Baird.’
‘Well, I considered his knowledge to be more detailed than one would have expected and also somewhat inappropriate, particularly for a child of his age … but again, this is in no way definitive.’
Daniel watched Irene furiously scribbling notes on her pad. He knew she would return to this subject on cross-examination.
‘I see, not definitive. Tell us about Sebastian’s ability to handle social communication.’
‘Yes, he does seem to have problems with social communication and social interaction … ’
‘Yet you failed to diagnose Asperger’s, preferring … ’ Again Jones twisted his face to read from his notes. ‘ … PDD-NOS. In my layman’s view he is sounding like a model example of a child with Asperger’s syndrome. Why is that not so?’
‘Well … Sebastian did show ability for social imagination … not only an ability but indeed an aptitude for it. This became very apparent in the role play that we did. It was this lack of … one of the key symptoms of Asperger’s that led me to disagree with the earlier diagnosis. But on reflection I did consider that he may demonstrate PDD-NOS.’
‘And what exactly is social imagination?’
‘Essentially, it is being able to imagine a range of possible outcomes to a situation – particularly a social situation. Many people with Asperger’s can be creative, but a typical symptom of the condition is the inability to imagine different outcomes to situations presented, or to … predict what will happen next. Often they will have trouble working out what other people know.’
‘I see.’ Jones was standing tall now, flourishing his robes and looking straight at the jury. ‘Tell me, Dr Baird, is social imagination important for someone to be a good liar?’
Daniel held his breath. Jones had raised his voice as he said the last word. Daniel looked up. The courtroom shuffles and murmurs had stopped. Baird swallowed. Daniel watched as his eyes flicked towards Irene.
‘Dr Baird?’ Jones prompted.
‘Well, certainly, if a lie is complex and involves visualisation of certain outcomes, then social imagination will be very important … but it should be noted that people with Asperger’s often find it impossible to lie.’
‘But, Dr Baird,’ said Jones, a predatory smile on his lips, ‘you just told us that Sebastian did not have Asperger’s, for the very reason that he showed an ability … indeed an aptitude … for social imagination, something that may have allowed him to lie convincingly about the murder of young Ben Stokes. Is that not the case?’
‘I … think that PDD-NOS is a more appropriate diagnosis, yes … I cannot speak about … ’
‘Dr Baird. Would you say that children with Asperger’s and indeed those diagnosed with the lesser condition of PDD-NOS often tend towards violence?’
‘Well, I … ’
Irene stood up. Daniel clasped his hands.
‘My lord, again I question the relevance … The witness is giving his expert opinion of my client’s psychological state. We have no time for generalisations … ’
‘That may be, Miss Clarke, but the witness may answer … As an expert he is entitled to show how your client’s psychological state pertains to … more general conditions.’
‘Well … ’ Baird stumbled, ‘children who display symptoms of PDD-NOS and Asperger’s may become frustrated more easily and as a result are more prone to temper tantrums, meltdowns, intense anger and violent behaviours.’
‘I see … intense anger and violent b
ehaviours,’ Jones repeated, turning in the jury’s direction. ‘Would children displaying such symptoms also lack … empathy?’
‘Again, the disorder has a wide spectrum, but … and this is true of aggressive children in general … they quite often do not feel, or indeed understand, the suffering of others.’
‘Thank you, Dr Baird,’ said Jones.
Jones seemed pleased with himself.
‘If I may, my lord,’ said Irene, standing up again.
Judge Baron fluttered his fingers in consent.
‘Dr Baird … focusing now on Sebastian, and moving away from previous generalisations, is it your expert opinion that he was aggressive or indeed duplicitous when you met with him – twice?’
‘That was not my experience of him, and we should not assume that he would be capable of these things.’
‘I see. You have testified that you consider that Sebastian may have a disorder on the Asperger’s spectrum, PDD-NOS. Is this common?’
‘Very much so.’
‘Is it therefore likely that a large number of otherwise healthy and sane adults in society would show these mild Asperger’s spectrum traits?’
‘Yes of course, although there would be no way to tell how common, as even now it largely goes undiagnosed.’
‘So people in this courtroom, other than the defendant, may also have PDD-NOS?’
‘It is entirely possible.’
‘People in the jury could have PDD-NOS, or even the barristers, solicitors and judge in court today?’
Her words were shocking and Daniel glanced at Baron. The old man was scowling, but said nothing.
‘Again, it is … possible.’
‘And is this not worrying? Is PDD-NOS indicative of criminality or violence?’
‘Not at all, it is just that the limitations of the disorder can increase frustration and occasionally result in outbursts in certain individuals.’
‘Thank you for that clarification.’ Daniel watched as Irene consulted the notes she had made during Jones’s questioning. ‘Now in relation to the defendant’s supposed morbid fascination, you have cited his description of his mother’s miscarriage as an example. Page sixty-three, paragraph four, in your bundle notes the transcript of the conversation to which you refer. What exactly did Sebastian say that you considered morbid or inappropriate to his age?’
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