Guilty One

by Lisa Ballantyne

  ‘The biological details he noted were startling – the exact age of the foetus, his awareness of trauma to the womb and the consequences for his mother’s fertility. He vividly described the haemorrhaging … ’

  ‘I fail to understand why this is attributable to a disorder, Dr Baird. My client was expecting a little brother. The pregnancy was third trimester, and he had, as you would expect, felt his sibling move through his mother’s stomach – in fact he spoke of this event. I am sure you are aware of the questions this experience will prompt in a child, about the specifics of biology. You are aware that the baby was lost as a result of a household accident … ’ Irene paused. Daniel wondered at her choice of phrase. ‘Do you not consider it wholly understandable that a child who witnessed the fall and such a late-term miscarriage in his own home may have become … morbidly preoccupied, as you put it? Would this not represent a significant trauma for the boy and his family?’

  ‘Indeed that is a reasonable explanation. Previously I answered questions on general aspects of the condition – not specific to Sebastian’s case.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Irene, triumphant. ‘Now once again, according to your assessment of the defendant, do you think that Sebastian is capable of the alleged offence?’

  Baird paused, almost tasting the words before he spoke. ‘No, I do not consider him capable of murder.’

  ‘Thank you, Dr Baird.’

  The court adjourned for lunch and Sebastian was taken downstairs. Daniel walked alone through the Old Bailey halls, running a hand through his hair. He felt angry with himself. He had been wary of Baird’s evidence and now castigated himself for not thinking it through more fully. Their first witness had been turned, but he was glad that Irene had been able to bring him back. He’d tried to catch her leaving court – he wanted to congratulate her for her recovery – but she had to speak to her pupil about another case.

  Daniel wasn’t hungry. He slotted coins into the drinks machine, choosing a coffee instead of lunch. While he was waiting, he felt fingernails dig into his upper arms and turned to find Charlotte almost in tears. She was Sebastian’s alibi from 3 p.m. on the day of the murder, and was due to testify after lunch.

  ‘Daniel, I don’t know if I can do this,’ she said. ‘It’s that man I’m afraid of – I watch him ripping people apart. I’m scared I’ll trip up … ’ Daniel knew that she meant Jones.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ said Daniel. He heard his tone as deep, almost severe, but he didn’t want her to fall apart and instinct told him not to indulge her. ‘Keep your answers short like we discussed with Irene. Talk about what you know and nothing else. You’re not on trial, remember.’

  ‘But my son is. I see the way they’re all looking at me, like I’m the mother of some kind of … devil.’

  ‘Don’t even think that. He’s innocent and we’re going to prove he is, but you’re an important part of that. We need you to win this. You’re his mother and he needs you to stand up for him.’

  Twice he had said these words to Charlotte. He wanted to shake her. He knew what it was like to have a mother who was as dependent as a child, who had been unable to protect him.

  Charlotte looked upwards at the high vault of the Central Criminal Court. She searched its expanse as if for answers. When she looked down again, a black tear spilled, which she wiped away quickly with an already blackened tissue. He remembered the touch of her nails on his abdomen. Looking at her, he felt again a wave of disgust and pity so strong that he had to look away.

  ‘You can do this, Charlotte,’ he said. ‘Sebastian’s counting on you.’

  When Charlotte was called, she was composed, but Daniel still held his breath as he watched her make her way to the witness box. The outlines of her elbows were visible through the sleeves of her jacket. Sebastian leaned forward, hands stretched out in front of him on the table, as if trying to reach out to her. Charlotte cleared her throat and took a sip of water. From a distance she seemed fragile but strikingly beautiful, her features even and her eyes huge.

  Irene was warm and conversational when she began her examination in chief. She had one elbow on her lectern and addressed Charlotte in a familiar, gentle way although the two women had only spoken briefly.

  ‘Just a few short questions … Can you tell us what you remember about the day of 8 August this year?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Charlotte, at first quietly, but soon gaining confidence. ‘I wasn’t feeling very well that day. My husband was overseas and after I made Sebastian’s lunch I decided to have a lie-down.’

  ‘What did Sebastian do on that day?’

  ‘Well, he went out to play while I was lying down.’

  ‘Did you know where he went to play?’

  ‘Well, normally he just plays in the road, sometimes with the neighbours’ children, but even if he goes to the park I can often still see him from the top-bedroom window, it’s so close.’

  ‘Did you watch him as he played on that day?’

  ‘No, I just had a lie-down. I had a headache.’

  ‘When did Sebastian return home?’

  ‘It was just before 3 p.m.’

  ‘You’re quite sure?

  ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘And when he returned home, did he appear different, for example very dirty – were his clothes visibly marked?’

  ‘No more than usual.’ Charlotte allowed a small smile. ‘He’s a little boy. He often comes home in a bit of a mess, but no, there was nothing unusual.’

  ‘What about his behaviour, did he seem troubled or upset?’

  ‘No, not at all. We had a snack together and watched some television.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Irene nodded and sat down.

  Daniel exhaled and leaned in towards Sebastian. ‘You OK?’ he whispered to the boy.

  ‘Don’t let him be mean to her,’ Sebastian whispered back, not turning to Daniel as he spoke.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Daniel assured him, although he too was concerned about Jones’s cross-examination. He knew Charlotte could not take a lot of pressure.

  Jones managed a toothless smile before he began. Charlotte was rubbing her neck, her eyes flicking anxiously in the direction of the public gallery.

  ‘Mrs Croll, does your doctor prescribe any medication that you take on a regular basis?’

  Charlotte cleared her throat and then said, ‘Yes … I have trouble sleeping and I have problems with… anxiety, so I take … em … diazepam, beta-blockers, fairly frequently, and on nights when I can’t sleep … temazepam.’

  ‘I see, quite a cocktail. And on 8 August, did you take any … diazepam, for example?’

  ‘I don’t remember exactly, but most likely I would have. Most days I need to take one, to calm me down.’

  ‘I see, so you admit taking sedatives on 8 August while your son went out to play, but you are now testifying under oath that you are certain he returned at 3 p.m. sharp?’

  ‘Yes, I lay down, but I didn’t actually sleep that day. I was not feeling well and just needed to calm down. I heard Sebastian come in at three o’clock and then I made us something to eat. I didn’t sleep. I know I didn’t sleep. I was too … tense. I know what time he came home.’

  ‘Do you love your son, Mrs Croll?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Sebastian reached over the table again when his mother spoke. Daniel noticed that he was smiling at his mother across the courtroom.

  ‘And you would do anything to protect him?’

  ‘Anything I could.’ Charlotte was looking straight at Sebastian.

  ‘When the police came to the house on Monday, you were reportedly home but fast asleep. So … out of it, that you didn’t even realise that your son had been taken to the police station, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, on that day I was asleep. The anxiety often builds up and on Monday I was exhausted. But on Sunday I was awake and I know the time that he came home.’

  ‘A witness has testified that he saw Sebastian in the Barnard Park Adventu
re Playground fighting with the deceased much later that afternoon. In fact you have no idea what time your son came home. You were drugged up and oblivious that day.’

  ‘That’s not true. It could have been someone else he saw. I know I was awake that day. I was sick with nerves. I couldn’t have slept if I’d tried. He came home at three o’clock, of that I am certain.’

  ‘Sick with nerves. I am sure you are, Mrs Croll, sick with nerves. How many milligrams of Valium did you take on 8 August?’

  Charlotte coughed. ‘Ten. I only have ten-milligram tablets, sometimes I bite half, but that day I had a full one.’

  ‘And we are to believe that you were still conscious, let alone aware of the hour, after ten milligrams of Valium?’

  ‘I have been taking anti-anxiety drugs for some time. Ten milligrams has a sedative effect on me, but no more. You can ask my doctor, smaller amounts don’t even calm me. I know my son was home at 3 p.m.’

  Daniel smiled and exhaled. Jones finished his questioning and Charlotte made her way back to her seat. Her elbows were sharp wings. She glanced briefly at Sebastian and Daniel before she sat. Daniel turned to her and mouthed: You did well.

  After a short break, it was time for the defence’s pathologist. The defence had not started well, with Baird’s evidence and the Crown’s assertion that Sebastian had a disorder on the Asperger’s spectrum, but Daniel thought that Charlotte had been a good witness. It had been dangerous to ask her to testify. As an alibi she was important but her volatile emotional state and her lack of attention had worried both Irene and Daniel. Yet Charlotte had excelled. She had been honest about her drug-taking and about her anxiety, and Daniel felt that her evidence was more credible than Rankine’s later sighting of the fighting boys, after the time when Sebastian claimed he had returned home.

  Irene seemed less confident when he met her and Mark afterwards. She was stripped of her gown, pacing in the robing room where the barristers’ lockers were sited.

  ‘I just don’t think it’s strong enough, Danny,’ she said. ‘That bloody psychologist hurt us.’ The bone-clean cuff of her collar flapped in emphasis as she spoke, hand on hip, two neat lines between her brows. ‘We need something more.’

  ‘We still have our forensic scientist to call, but I assume you’re not going to call her now,’ said Daniel.

  ‘No need since we turned Watson. His capitulation is stronger than anything she could say.’

  ‘There is one person that they’re still waiting to hear from,’ said Daniel.

  Irene spun round to face him. Her eyes were intense. ‘You mean put Sebastian on the stand? It wouldn’t be allowed at this stage. The defence is under way.’

  ‘Could you not make a formal application to the judge?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘I could but he’s not certain to allow it. Do you think Sebastian’s up to it?’

  ‘He might be.’

  ‘And you really think this will help us? I had wondered as much myself. By not letting him testify we could be harming his chances. We need the jury to understand him, especially with the Crown throwing in Asperger’s and his mother’s drug addiction and the morbid fascination. He’s saying nothing and the jury’s imaginations are running riot … ’

  ‘I agree – they’re all waiting to hear his side of the story. His silence now is implicating him,’ Daniel said.

  Irene exhaled. ‘God, let’s all go and get a drink. I think we need it. We can talk about it then. We’d need reports from the psychologist and then I would have to apply to Baron.’

  By eight o’clock they were on their third pint at the Bridge Bar in Gray’s Inn, giggling in the corner behind Judge Baron’s back. The judge was on the other side of the bar with a small sherry.

  ‘You all right, Danny boy, eh?’ said Irene, leaning forward and sweeping back the hair from Daniel’s face. He allowed it, letting his head fall back gently against the wood panelling. ‘You seem really heavy lately. You’re not like you were at the last trial. I wonder if it’s all getting to you, and I see our little client likes you … a lot.’

  ‘He hates me,’ said Mark, Irene’s junior.

  Daniel gave him a sideways smile. Mark was an awkward lad, never seeming to find a shirt to fit.

  Daniel pounded his fist gently on the table, making the head on his beer vibrate.

  ‘I didn’t see all that Asperger’s stuff coming. He’d ruled it out – he’d specifically ruled it out.’

  ‘None of us saw it coming, Danny, let it go … Hopefully we did a good recovery. I think the way to deal with it is just to acknowledge it from now on. I think I might even mention it in closing, but we have to reiterate the point we have already made, that … even if he does have the non-diagnosed Asperger’s – whatever he called it – Sebastian is not a murderer.’

  Daniel and Mark nodded in agreement.

  ‘The bigger question,’ Irene said, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, ‘is whether we take your suggestion and call him.’

  ‘I know he can do it,’ said Daniel. ‘I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise. He’s not like a lot of little boys. He could handle it.’

  ‘What’s your opinion, Mark?’ Irene asked.

  Daniel could tell from her tone and the way she looked at Mark that she was not really asking him for his opinion, but testing him, teaching him.

  ‘I think it’s dangerous. There’s no real precedent for it. Venables and Thompson didn’t testify at the Bulger trial because they were said to be suffering from post-traumatic stress. Mary Bell testified, but that was in the fifties and doesn’t constitute a true parallel … ’

  ‘I think Danny’s right that the jury need to hear from Seb, and I also think he’ll surprise us with his ability to perform. What is not certain is whether the psychologist will agree the boy’s up to it, and ultimately if Baron will accept the application.’

  ‘I think you should go for it,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Let me sleep on it. What I find disarming,’ Irene continued, ‘but … nevertheless helpful for his defence … is that he is quite a charming child – Asperger’s or not. He’s weird, he’s unsettling, but he’s charming nevertheless. And he’s very mature, very good in adult company.’ She let her hand fall on to Daniel’s knee. ‘I think you might be right. We can put him on the stand.’

  Daniel wished that Mark was no longer there. He leaned back, resisting the urge to take her hand.

  ‘He doesn’t like my adult company,’ said Mark. Daniel smiled again; Mark seemed genuinely offended to have been rejected by the child.

  ‘You’re being paranoid,’ said Irene. ‘Why does he like you so much, Danny?’

  Daniel shrugged. ‘Just generally likeable, I suppose.’

  ‘Do you like him?’ asked Mark.

  ‘That’s funny, he asked me that same thing the other day.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I did like him … I’m not sure like is the right word, though. Some part of me … understands him, or I think I do. Whether he murdered Ben Stokes or not, we all know he’s a very disturbed little boy. He needs looking after.’

  Mark was looking at Daniel in a strange way, as if he had said something he disagreed with but was afraid to challenge.

  ‘It does make you wonder,’ said Irene. ‘When I think of the things I got up to as a child … God, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Danny, one eyebrow raised.

  She smiled at him and let her head fall to one side. ‘I set fire to my cousin’s dress because she said I looked like that little girl from Little House on the Prairie.’

  ‘Set fire to her?’ Daniel leaned forward.

  ‘Yes, we had a big open fire in the kitchen and I was furious with her. I got a little piece of kindling and set the frill of her dress alight. It could’ve been a terrible accident. I could’ve found myself in Sebastian’s position.’

  ‘What happened?’ said Mark and Daniel together.

  ‘Miraculous. She just patt
ed the flames and they died. Just patted them away. Of course she told on me … and her dress was ruined.’

  ‘I knew you’d’ve been a little hell-raiser.’

  ‘I’m a fire-starter,’ mimed Irene, shooing Mark off to get more drinks.

  ‘What were you like when you were little?’ said Irene coyly. ‘Bet you were adorable.’

  ‘I was a tearaway,’ said Daniel, meeting her gaze.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can see that too.’

  Daniel met with the Crolls at Parklands House. The psychologist had stated that Sebastian would be able to testify under certain conditions. Irene was preparing her application to Judge Philip Baron.

  The rain was hard and the day was black outside. King Kong was heavy in the meeting room, Sebastian waiting on his own upstairs. The plastic secured chairs strained under his weight.

  ‘Are you saying that you’ve fucked this up? That is what you’re saying, isn’t it? Why should he give evidence? Is he not in danger of incriminating himself?’

  ‘There is an argument that by not testifying he’s incriminating himself, and he held up really well in the police interviews. He’s been so bright … ’

  ‘Don’t patronise me. I know my son is smart, he wouldn’t be my son if he wasn’t. Of course he’ll be better than your average stupid little kid in the dock. What I want is the strategy. Why is this the best move?’

  ‘Because we think the jury need to hear from him. The evidence about Asperger’s, the later sighting and the issue over the alibi all seem to ask for Sebastian’s comment. We think his evidence could be very important. Essentially it’s important at this stage for the jury to hear that he didn’t do it. We have already shown that there is reasonable doubt but we feel that the jury need to hear it from him.’

  Kenneth’s right eye twitched as he listened to Daniel.

  ‘If Sebastian handles it well, it could make all the difference.’