Cut-Throat Defence: The dramatic, twist-filled legal thriller

by Olly Jarvis

  The jury panel stood nervously to Jack’s right, next to the jury box, surprised by the number of people in court, but protected by their own numbers. The clerk of the court started to read out names from the cards in her hand. Each juror took a seat in the box as their name was called. Once twelve members of the panel had been selected they were asked to stand and hold the card in their hand, from which they read the oath.

  ‘I swear by Almighty God that I will faithfully try the defendants and give true verdicts according to the evidence.’ Some of the cards shook as the jurors held them, many having never spoken in public before. Jack sympathized as several jurors stumbled over the words of the oath, which in other circumstances would have been easy to read aloud.

  The unselected panel members were thanked and ushered out. The indictment was read out by the clerk.

  His Lordship turned to the jury and simply said, ‘Members of the jury, it is not appropriate for you to be told anything at all about this case until tomorrow morning, so I am going to ask you to please bear with me, and come back for ten-thirty sharp.’

  As soon as the last juror had left Court, the judge rose.

  As they turned to leave, Lara said that she would have to go back to the office to work on the papers. She explained that Dobkin wanted to be kept up to date with what was happening. Jack could see that she was keeping her distance – preparing herself for the disappointment of Jack’s desertion.

  Chapter 32

  The robing room was a hive of activity; advocates chatting to their opponents, clarifying the law or imitating their clients, all above the clatter of wig tins being opened and closed.

  ‘Ah, Jack,’ said Otterwood with a sense of purpose. ‘I take it we’ll be seeing you at Mess tonight?’

  ‘Mess?’ said Jack.

  ‘Yes, it’s grand court. Aren’t you being called tonight, old chap?’

  With everything that had been happening Jack had completely forgotten. He was supposed to be ‘called’ to the Northern Circuit that evening – a black-tie dinner for hundreds of barristers. Jack loathed such events. Not because he disapproved, just that he always felt like an outsider. Deep down he felt inadequate, compared to these skilled orators.

  Jack had been dreading it, knowing he would be the only new member of Circuit attending who didn’t have a tenancy. ‘Yes, I’ll be there,’ he muttered.

  ‘Have you got a silk to propose you?’ asked Otterwood.

  It was a long-standing tradition. Without Queen’s Counsel to propose him, he couldn’t be called. Failure to become a member of the Circuit on which he practised would be another blot on his copybook. ‘Er, no, I haven’t had time to ask anyone.’ The truth was he didn’t know any silks to ask.

  ‘Look no further, I’m your man. See you tonight, old chap.’

  It was a thoughtful gesture, whatever the motive. Jack was enormously grateful.

  He took out his mobile, saw a missed call from chambers and rang in.

  Bob answered. ‘Mr Kowalski, I heard you went short today. I need you to do a sentence for Langton’s. We missed it in the list last night. One of Mr Huntsman’s. We’ve got no one else.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a prostitute called Maisie Harris. She rolled a punter.’

  A case of this seriousness would ordinarily have filled Jack with trepidation but he had grown in confidence over the last few days. He accepted the brief gladly.

  ‘Thanks, Mr Kowalski. I know you’ve got your hands full. I’ll send one of the boys round with the brief now. It will be at reception. There’s no solicitor coming to court on this one.’

  ‘OK, thanks Bob.’

  ‘Oh, by the way, don’t forget it’s call night tonight. Have you got a silk yet?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I have.’

  Whilst waiting for the brief, Jack went to the probation office to collect a copy of the pre-sentence report.

  Maisie Harris’s report wasn’t bad. A nineteen-year-old heroin addict who wanted to be clean. To that end at least, she appeared motivated. The problem was she had pleaded guilty to a serious offence – robbery – where the complainant had been badly beaten by Maisie’s pimp.

  Jack collected the brief and went down to the cells. He skimmed the pages as he waited for the prison officer to open up.

  Maisie was brought into the visiting room where Jack was already sitting, waiting at the table. She was still pretty, but the drugs were ageing her quickly.

  ‘Hello, Maisie. I’m your barrister, Jack Kowalski.’

  Maisie giggled. ‘You’re too young to be a barrister. Shouldn’t you be an old man?’

  Jack laughed. ‘I’m sorry I’m not older, but I’ll do my best.’ He smiled at her.

  She liked him already. ‘Don’t worry, Jack. In my profession they like ’em young.’ She sat down at the table, her face now totally serious. ‘They’re telling me on the wing that with credit for the guilty plea it’s three years, and I’ll only have to do half that. I’ll not cope with a day more.’

  ‘Give or take a year, that’s about right,’ said Jack. ‘First things first, though,’ he said, looking at the witness statements. ‘You picked up a kerb-crawler, went to a secluded spot, your co-defendant appeared and robbed him. So when did you plan it?’

  ‘Plan it? I didn’t, Jack. I swear down. Me head were too mashed for owt like that.’

  ‘But you’ve pleaded guilty?’

  ‘Yeah, but I didn’t know Morris was gonna rob him till he turned up at the car. I knew he were following. He always does, to check there’s no mither.’

  ‘The complainant says you lifted the lock on the car door so Morris could get in.’

  ‘That’s true. I did. He banged on the window. You don’t say no to him.’

  ‘But you knew what he was going to do?’

  ‘Obviously,’ she said unashamedly.

  ‘That makes you guilty of robbery. We call it joint enterprise. But I’ll do what I can.’

  He got more information from her about how she became an addict and when she first went on the game, a story that was already becoming all too familiar. Sexual abuse by a stepfather, which drove Maisie to leave home and go on to the streets. She had quickly found herself using heroin to block out the pain.There was only one way for someone of Maisie’s resources to fund such an expensive habit. Maisie’s arms told the story – needle marks, self-harming scars and tiny DIY tattoos.

  The prison officer returned and told them the case was being called on.

  ‘Try your best, Jack, won’t you?’

  Jack thought it curious how defendants always said that, as if there were ever a possibility he would do anything else.

  Chapter 33

  A dishevelled woman jumped off her seat outside the courtroom and hurried over.

  ‘Excuse me, are you Maisie’s barrister?’

  ‘Yes, I am. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m her mum.’

  She had the careworn face of a hard life. How Maisie would soon look, thought Jack. She smelt of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke.

  ‘Pete’s gone. He ain’t coming back. I want Maisie to come home when she gets out. Will you tell her I’m sorry?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Jack. ‘Come in with me. I’ll show you where to sit during the hearing.’

  Now he had one very important piece of mitigation – a settled address.

  The court was busy. Her Honour Judge Beddingfield had a full list. She was just finishing off a pre-trial issues hearing on a rape. One of the new breed of judges appointed in recent years, caring and sensitive. The Ministry of Justice favoured interviewees who used buzzwords like ‘diversity’ and ‘inclusivity’.

  Although sometimes harsh, she could also be flexible in her approach. The more senior practitioners at the Bar resented being passed over for an appointment in favour of these younger people, often women, but there was no room in a modern criminal justice system for dinosaurs. Jack instinctively knew how to play this judge.
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br />   As he sat in counsel’s row, Paul Effiong, Katterman’s junior in Purley and Others, leaned across.

  ‘Got you too, did they? Thought I was getting an early dart, then they give me this two-hander to prosecute. Luckily, there was already an opening note in the brief.’

  Jack liked Effiong. It was his easy-going manner. He was making a real name for himself. A growing number of people that mattered believed he could become one of the few black criminal silks in Manchester.

  ‘I’m for Harris,’ said Jack.

  ‘Porridge for you then, mate. The Flying Eyebrow is for Morris.’

  The Flying Eyebrow was an elderly gentleman called Leslie Pinkerton. Having become somewhat doddery in recent years, his only animation was movement of the left eyebrow when making an important point.

  The defendants were brought up. Jack turned to see that Morris was a tall, muscular man in his early thirties, with a fine set of gold teeth and long hair in dreadlocks. He surveyed the courtroom, unbowed by his surroundings. Maisie cast her eyes down nervously.

  Her Honour already had the measure of these two.

  Effiong got to his feet. After introducing the parties, he outlined the essential facts, relying heavily on his written opening, then moved on to the antecedent histories of the defendants.

  ‘Your Honour, Morris is thirty-two years of age. He had a conviction eight years ago for a similar offence and more recently for an offence of blackmail. He received sentences of three years imprisonment for both offences. Harris has numerous convictions for theft, shoplifting and possession of Class A drugs. She has not received custodial sentences in the past. Unless I can assist Your Honour further, that is the case for the Crown.’

  Her Honour was studying her own copy of the antecedents. ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Effiong.’

  Effiong sat down with a sense of satisfaction – job done.

  ‘Mr Pinkerton?’ asked the judge, smiling kindly at the ageing advocate.

  The Flying Eyebrow pulled himself slowly to his feet and, in a monotonous mutter, began his submission. ‘Your Honour, this defendant deeply regrets his actions, which is demonstrated amply by his guilty plea, for which I would invite Your Honour to give the full one-third credit.’

  She nodded.

  Pinkerton continued, ‘Your Honour will, I know, take into account the absence of a weapon in deciding on the length of sentence, but I would ask Your Honour to keep that as short as is commensurate with Your Honour’s public duty.’ He sat down, exhausted.

  The judge inclined her head graciously. All judges appreciated brevity but Jack thought the mitigation could have referred to just about anybody. It ticked all the obvious boxes but this judge used to be a family-law barrister. They liked touchy-feely mitigations, all about the offender.

  ‘Mr, err, Kowalski?’

  ‘Your Honour, can I start by conceding that this case passes the custody threshold. My primary submission will be on the length of the sentence.’

  Her Honour smiled graciously. Nothing irritated judges more than a long-winded, unrealistic plea in mitigation.

  ‘It will be my submission that this defendant could receive a term of imprisonment of less than twelve months.’

  To justify this Jack needed to put some clear water between Maisie and her co-defendant.

  ‘Unlike the co-defendant, this would be Miss Harris’s first custodial sentence. She is still only nineteen years of age, there is no previous history of violence, and—’

  ‘Mr Kowalski,’ interrupted the judge, ‘I have a much longer sentence in mind for Mr Morris. How can I draw such a distinction between them? I cannot appear to re-sentence Mr Morris for his previous offending, can I?’

  ‘Of course not, Your Honour, but there is also a fundamental factual difference. Morris’s actions were clearly premeditated. He arrived at the car door with the intention of committing a robbery. Miss Harris made a spur-of-the-moment decision to release the lock on the orders of her pimp. There was no premeditation in her case, and there is no evidence on which an earlier intent could be inferred, which must have a dramatic effect on sentence.’

  ‘What do you say, Mr Effiong?’

  Effiong got to his feet, a little annoyed to be called upon again. He thought for a moment.

  ‘I concede there was no act by Harris, or indeed evidence on which the Crown can rely, for the assertion that she was a party to a joint enterprise, prior to the opening of the lock, Your Honour.’

  The judge nodded approvingly at Jack, slightly surprised that he had a point.

  ‘Mr Kowalski, in light of the Crown’s very frank concession, I will sentence on the basis for which you contend.’

  ‘I am grateful for that indication, Your Honour. If Your Honour is with me on the question of length, the question then arises, does the custodial sentence need to be immediate?’ He continued with more fortitude. ‘There is no justification for her actions, only explanation. If her pimp tells her to do something, she does it. Of course it is not a defence, which is why she has pleaded guilty. Your Honour will see from the pre-sentence report that her life has had a theme to it for many years – violence and exploitation by men.’

  Jack was warming to his task and prepared to launch his biggest weapon. ‘There has been a major development in this young lady’s life. It happened today, Your Honour, and even the defendant is as yet unaware of it.’ Jack glanced over at the gallery.

  Maisie’s eyes, and those of the judge, followed.

  Jack continued. ‘The defendant’s mother has attended court today. Her own destructive, violent relationship has been terminated. She hopes to renew contact with her daughter, but most importantly, she offers what the defendant has not had since she was twelve.’ He paused. ‘Somewhere she can call home.’

  Jack could see the judge was observing the tears roll down Maisie’s cheeks. ‘Your Honour, I appreciate that it is a bold submission, but the justice of the case could be met by a suspended sentence of imprisonment, with a drug treatment and testing order, which would be supervised by the probation service. Any breaches and Miss Harris would be well aware that the prison term would be activated.’

  The judge seemed to be teetering on the edge of this lenient course of action. Jack tried one last flurry. ‘Of course, Your Honour must consider your public duty in sentencing an offender, but one wonders whether the public would be better served by turning this defendant into a useful member of society. She has never had a chance in life. On her behalf, I only ask for one.’ He sat down with the most earnest expression he could muster.

  The judge thanked Jack, but gave nothing away. ‘I think I will rise for a few minutes to consider this.’

  Pinkerton turned to Jack and raised the famous eyebrow. ‘Wholly unrealistic,’ he murmured.

  Jack ignored him, heartened to see Maisie and her mother exchanging conciliatory glances.

  The judge wasn’t out for long. ‘The defendants may remain seated. This was a cruel and violent robbery of a man lured to an isolated place for one purpose. Morris, you are no stranger to this type of offending. You have been to prison twice before. You do not appear to have learnt your lesson. I give you full credit for your guilty plea. The least sentence I can pass is one of four years imprisonment. Take him down.’ She waited for Morris to disappear down the steps before continuing. ‘Miss Harris, I have listened carefully to your able counsel’s submission and after much consideration I have decided I can reduce the sentence in your case. But there must be a sentence of imprisonment, which accordingly, I reduce to nine months. However…’ She paused. ‘I’ve been persuaded that I can suspend that sentence, which I do, for a period of two years. There is also a condition that you will undergo the very demanding drug treatment and testing order. You will attend before me for regular reviews of your progress. Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll rise.’

  Once the judge had departed, Jack sat down again, wanting to savour the moment. This was what the job was all about.

  By the time he had gathered up
his papers and left court, Maisie had already been released. She was outside the courtroom with her mother. On seeing Jack, she ran up and hugged him. ‘I hope I don’t need a barrister again, but if I do, I’ll definitely ask for you. Nine months would’ve done me, but to get a bender! It’s the first bit of luck I’ve had for a long time. You never told me you were in the big drugs case. I can see why.’

  Maisie’s mum chipped in, ‘We are going to get you off the drugs and make this work, aren’t we, love?’ They held each other’s hands tightly.

  Jack couldn’t help asking Maisie how she knew he was defending in Rako & Others.

  ‘Morris told me when we were being brought up. Everyone is talking about it. You’re for Marpit aren’t you? I knew his daughter, vaguely.’

  Jack was surprised. ‘I thought she was from London?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, but she came up to go to uni. Lived in Fallowfield. Loved the coke too much, didn’t she. Dropped out. We both did a bit of lap dancing for a few weeks at Milo’s in Salford. Well dodgy it were.’

  Maisie’s mum winced, then started to pull her away. ‘Thanks again, Mr Kowalski. I can’t tell you what this means to me.’

  Jack watched them walk away. Maisie turned briefly and blew him a kiss.

  He loved this profession.

  Chapter 34

  Grand court was held at the Lowry hotel.

  Jack checked his bow tie and walked through to the main dining room, where he found countless barristers guffawing. He searched desperately for a familiar face.

  As if by magic, Rafe appeared with two pints of bitter. ‘Hi Jack, get this down you.’

  Jack never ceased to be amazed at how relaxed and natural Rafe was at these functions.

  A loud crack of a gavel hitting wood reined in the tumult. People took their seats. The top table contained a mixture of judges and QCs, all seated on one side, with a number of other tables at ninety-degree angles.