by Olly Jarvis
Maisie’s mum, Angela, was hanging from the gate by her neck. She had used a belt.
Jack recoiled in horror. He let out an involuntary moan as he reached up and held Angela’s stiff body. Lara undid the belt and they lowered her gently to the ground. Lara wept silently. Jack blinked at the lifeless body in disbelief, like a confused child, desperately seeking an answer.
None came.
The flat was silent.
Jack scanned the room and called out Maisie’s name. Shocked and disorientated, he clambered over to the bedroom. ‘No!’
Lara heard him cry out. As she entered the bedroom, Jack staggered past her and out on to the landing. He leant over the balcony and threw up.
Lara stared at Maisie’s naked, emaciated body. A swollen, bandaged head. Her lips were blue. She had been dead some time. A needle was still sticking out of her arm, signalling the point of entry of the fatal overdose.
A small tattoo above her navel read, ‘LOVE ME’.
Jack stood motionless while Lara rang the emergency services.
She walked him back into the lounge and sat him down on the sofa, then went to the kitchen and washed out a coffee cup and brought him some water. ‘Drink this,’ she ordered.
In slow motion, his hand took the cup.
She pushed it gently up to his mouth and took a sip.
By the time the police had arrived it was nearly two. Jack was still in shock and fit for nothing, least of all court.
‘Come on, Jack,’ Lara said, giving his shoulders a shake. ‘We’ve got to get back.’
He still hadn’t spoken. Jack looked at her blankly, as if confused.
Lara pulled him up and out through the gathering crowd. ‘Come on, Jack, follow me,’ she said, holding on to his hand.
Jack said nothing.
Chapter 77
They walked along the concourse towards Court One with only seconds to spare. Lara was becoming increasingly concerned about Jack’s mental state. All she could do was pray that Otterwood and Katterman took up the whole afternoon, which would push Jack into the following day.
They saw Rafe coming towards them on his way to court.
‘Jack, everyone’s talking about it,’ said Rafe excitedly.
Jack looked blankly at him.
‘How you cut the throat of the great Humphrey Bingham, QC!’
Jack didn’t reply. He didn’t want the adulation. Didn’t deserve it. ‘Luck,’ he muttered.
‘You make your own luck in this game. You know that.’ Rafe looked at Lara. ‘Is he all right?’
‘He’s got to be. He’s got to do his speech this afternoon.’ She steered him into the courtroom just as the judge was coming in.
‘Members of the jury,’ began Otterwood earnestly, ‘I’m not going to take as long as I did in opening the case to you. Firstly, because Mr Rako saw sense and pleaded guilty and, secondly, as far as Mr Purley is concerned, the evidence against him is as I have already outlined to you, save for the addition of a new witness that gives direct evidence against him regarding his involvement in the conspiracy – none other than Mr Carl Marpit.’
Jack wasn’t listening. A jumble of thoughts banged around inside his head. Maisie, Finch, lawyers, drugs. He wanted to scream.
Otterwood went on to dissect the case put forward by Purley, describing it as a recent invention, a defence of last resort.
He moved on to deal with Marpit’s defence in more detail. ‘Members of the jury, it’s a matter for you whether you accept Marpit’s account of what happened. If you don’t, you will convict him. But even if you do, you must ask yourselves, can it amount to duress?’
He continued, ‘Duress is all about an immediate threat that saps the will, members of the jury. That so clouds the judgement that the defendant does as he or she is told. But this scenario could not be further from that situation. Mr Marpit apparently did as he was told for months. There was no gun being held to his head. On the contrary, a carrot was being dangled: free drug rehabilitation for his daughter. This looks awfully like payment for work done, rather than duress, don’t you think?
‘And ask yourselves this, would an innocent man not tell the truth at the first opportunity, on his capture? The defendant maintained the lie until today. To acquit Mr Marpit would be to allow any defendant to expunge his crime by shouting “duress – they made me do it!” There would be anarchy. So where does one draw the line, members of the jury? The answer is simple. When there is an opportunity to take a different course and inform the police. In this case, Mr Marpit had that opportunity for months. What if he had been asked to rape someone? Could he have claimed duress? Of course not.
‘Finally, members of the jury, ask yourselves this: was Mr Marpit’s desperation concerning his daughter’s drug addiction worth all the lives destroyed by his actions? No. I’m afraid not. Leaving aside any feelings of sentiment, Mr Marpit, like Mr Purley, is guilty. Thank you for listening so intently, members of the jury.’
Otterwood slowly retook his seat, looking suitably burdened by the truth of the defendants’ guilt.
Lionel Katterman, QC, paused a moment, before getting to his feet, to let the memory of Otterwood’s closing remarks fade a little in the jury’s memory. He knew this had to be good, and he knew it would be. His only regret was that the audience was not larger.
He made an equally powerful speech, short but confident, full of clever cuts and thrusts, defending Purley’s account and damning Marpit’s as a cynical attempt to get himself off the hook. He held the jury’s attention throughout, finishing on a high: ‘When everything is stripped away, members of the jury, when you look at the bare facts, what actually is the evidence that Anthony Purley was involved in this importation? It all comes from Carl Marpit. A proven liar, with his own very important reasons to lie to you.’
Katterman’s powerful words brought Jack back to his senses. The jurors hung on every word. Jack couldn’t talk like that. He was beaten. He had no fight left.
Katterman continued. ‘Can you convict Mr Purley on the words of that criminal? Have you been taken in by him, members of the jury? In answering that important question, there is one feature of the evidence that may help you. Why was there no telephone contact between Mr Purley and Rako, a self–confessed conspirator? It’s simple – Mr Purley wasn’t in on it. Who was Mr Rako in contact with?’ Katterman turned to the dock and pointed an accusing finger at Marpit. ‘It was Carl Marpit, members of the jury. Anthony Purley is not guilty. Not on this evidence.’ He sat down.
Jack looked down at his notes. He’d jotted a few turgid points, but without any real structure. How could he expect a jury to be persuaded if he wasn’t himself? He glanced at the clock – quarter to four. Skart would never make him do his speech so late in the afternoon.
The judge looked at him. ‘Mr Kowalski, it has been a long afternoon with a lot for the jury to take in.’
He was going to adjourn! Thank God.
‘So I am going to give the jury a fifteen-minute break. You can start your speech at four o’clock.’
Shit! Jack’s heart sank. ‘Thank you, My Lord,’ he mumbled.
He felt dizzy as he made his way out of the courtroom, gasping for air.
Lara was quickly by his side. ‘Are you all right, Jack? You look a bit green.’
‘That’s exactly how I feel,’ he muttered. ‘I’m going for a walk.’
He rushed down the stairs and outside into Crown Square, like a caged animal that had just been released. He couldn’t do this. He sat on a bench, still wigged, head in his hands, shaking.
He lost all track of time.
Chapter 78
‘Everything all right, old chap?’
Jack looked up. It was Simon Huntsman.
‘I’ve just popped across from chambers. Lara called me, said you were freaking out.’
‘Maisie is dead. And her mother.’
‘I know, Lara told me. It’s awful, Jack. Awful. But you’re going to have to deal with it. Detach yourse
lf,’ he said firmly. ‘You’re a criminal barrister. We see tragedy and pain every day. Hatred. The very worst of people. I thought you wanted this life?’
‘I did. Do.’
They sat in silence for a while.
‘I’ve got nothing to say to this jury. I’ve got no speech.’ He pulled out a piece of paper from inside his jacket and handed it to Simon, who unfolded it – just a few scribblings on it.
‘The defence is duress, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, but it’s crap.’
Simon sat down beside Jack. ‘Look. Forget all that. Just go and speak from the heart. You know about that, don’t you? As long as you say it with a bit of passion, you’ll be fine. Forget the script.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. I don’t know the first thing about how to make a speech.’
‘The most important rule, Jack, don’t you remember? Come on, I taught you.’
They both recited the mantra: ‘Say it like you believe it.’
Jack managed to raise a smile.
Simon spoke calmly. ‘This case has been a baptism of fire, but once you’ve done it, you can face anything.’
‘Thanks.’ Jack got up, leaving his old pupil-master on the bench to watch him make the long walk back into court.
‘Oh, and the second-most important rule,’ called Simon. ‘Keep it short!’
Chapter 79
Everyone was waiting in court, including the jury.
As he made his way to his seat, Jack was aware of everyone’s eyes upon him. Was the new boy going to deliver? Was he going to mess it up?
He fixated on Lara’s sympathetic smile as he passed. ‘Ask for more time, Jack. He’ll understand.’
Ignoring her suggestion, Jack placed one hand on his lectern and said, ‘Thank you for the time, My Lord.’ He reached into his pocket for the speech, then thought better of it. He turned to the jury. What on earth was he going to say?
My name is Jack Kowalski. My name is Jack Kowalski.
Suddenly, Jack heard himself speak. ‘Have you ever seen a young life snuffed out by drugs? A beautiful person, no more than a child, dead, covered in needle marks? A face ravaged by the effects of addiction? A soul, sold for the price of a ten-pound wrap?
‘I have. It rips your heart out, members of the jury.’ He paused. ‘Drugs destroy countless lives, families. We all know that. But please be careful. The terrible destruction they undoubtedly cause is not the basis on which you will judge whether this defendant is guilty.’
He paused again, then said simply, ‘Mr Katterman is right, members of the jury. I am young and inexperienced.’
Some of the jurors smiled at the unexpected admission.
‘You can probably see that for yourselves. I’ve been bashing away for this last week, cross-examining up hill and down dale, all about participating informants, CHIS’s and the like. I was barking up the wrong tree. Because Carl Marpit’s case is not about that at all. It’s about one thing.’
Jack stopped and poured himself a glass of water. He took a sip, then put the cup down.
‘Love! It’s all about love. Most of you, if not all, know about the love you feel for a family member, whether it’s a child or a parent. I hope you do anyway, because it’s what gives our lives colour – meaning. When they need us, those feelings are intensified: there’s nothing deeper. Losing someone that close to you can be heart-wrenching. Some of us in this courtroom have experienced that pain.
‘One thing is for sure, Carl Marpit knows all about those feelings. He lost his wife. And then he thought he was losing Melanie, firstly to drugs, and then to a frightening and faceless gang.
‘My job was to get the true picture before you, and that’s what I’ve done, members of the jury. Despite all the lies in this case, you can be sure that Carl Marpit was acting out of love for his daughter. Whether it excuses his actions is up to you and no one else. When you are deliberating, please remember this – you are not deciding this case on philosophical principles, but on the evidence. How did events affect Carl Marpit’s state of mind? You’ll remember that these people were masters of manipulation. They knew how to seek out the vulnerable and the weaknesses in people, and exploit them. This is about real people with all their frailties.
‘Of course what Carl Marpit did was wrong. It can’t be justified as the right thing to do, and I won’t try to. I’ve got no smoke and mirrors, members of the jury. It is understandable, though, isn’t it? Hindsight is a wonderful thing. To be able to analyze Carl Marpit’s thought processes here and now is a little artificial. At the time, did he think he had a choice – or, did he reasonably believe that if he didn’t follow orders, Melanie would be killed? Because if so, he was acting under duress.’
Jack leant in towards the jury. ‘This is my submission to you – the truth is there for all to see. He is not guilty.’
He fell back into his seat, exhausted.
A moment of silence and reflection hung over the courtroom.
Was he in with a chance? Adrenaline was pumping through his body – he had just delivered his first closing speech to a jury.
The barristers and solicitors gathered outside the courtroom, talking to each other and their clients’ families. There was a tangible sense of relief. Their work was all but done. Only the judge’s summing up in the morning remained, and then the jury would retire to consider their verdicts.
‘Speech in the bag. Must be a great feeling, Jack,’ said Paul Effiong. ‘We’re all going to The Alchemist for a celebratory beer, if you want to come along?’
‘Thanks, Paul, but there is someone I’ve got to see.’
‘OK mate,’ he said, as Jack scurried off.
‘Must be someone important,’ Paul remarked to Lara, who had also heard Jack’s snub.
Jack just caught her reply.
‘His father,’ she guessed.
Chapter 80
Jack let himself in with a key and called out, ‘Tata.’ No response. He went upstairs to the flat.
Mariusz was slumped in his favourite armchair. A thimble was still on his thumb, and a pair of trousers draped across his knees.
Jack’s mouth went dry. ‘Tata!’ He put his hand on his father’s shoulder and shook him.
Startled, Mariusz opened his eyes and looked at Jack over the top of his spectacles. ‘Janusz!’ he exclaimed, as if he hadn’t seen his son for months. ‘I must have nodded on.’
Jack let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t correct his father’s English. ‘Tata, the workshop is closed now. Why do you always come upstairs and carry on? You need to have a break, you know.’
‘Just one more pair. How the case? Why you come today?’
‘I came to play for you, Tata.’
Mariusz gave a tired smile and settled back in his armchair. He had no more questions.
‘What shall I play?’
‘You know,’ said his father.
Janusz smiled as he sat at the piano he knew better than any other, and played a waltz. Chopin. It had been his mother’s favourite. Opus 64, No. 2.
Chapter 81
Jack pulled his coat over his head and ran down the city streets, hugging the side of the buildings for shelter. He followed the rainwater, flowing along the gutters down King Street. He felt the reassuring squelch in his shoe.
He called in at chambers on his way to court and checked his pigeonhole – empty. He asked Bob the usual optimistic question, ‘Any bookings?’
Bob shook his head and gave the usual answer. ‘Not today, sir. Your case is all over the news again.’
Jack walked into reception. The local news was on. ‘Verdicts are expected today in the Manchester trial of two men who allegedly imported vast quantities of cocaine from Venezuela. A third man pleaded guilty during the trial…’
Jack’s stomach was already in knots; the press would be circling like vultures, waiting to pick over the bones of the convicted.
He stood at the entrance to chambers, waiting for a lull in the beating rain. After a m
oment he jogged across Crown Square, pushing through the photographers and journalists sheltering under the porch outside the court building.
As he made his way up to the robing room, he received a text message from Lara: ‘Stuff to do. Won’t be there this morning. Back 4 verdicts. Keep a note of summing up.’
Jack found Lara’s intended absence unsettling. He wasn’t thinking from a professional perspective. Jack wondered where he might be next week. In what career? Whatever it would be, the thought of not seeing Lara every day filled him with a kind of dread. Life would never be the same again, not so much because of the trial, but because he’d met her.
She occupied his thoughts as he robed. As he put on his bands in front of the mirror, he thought his gown hung a little better on him than usual.
Jack went through into the advocates’ canteen, but he was quickly woken by the arrival of a group from Paramount, deep in conversation. The horsey girl Jack had sat next to at Mess was being dispatched by Katterman on some secret mission. She looked straight through Jack as she passed. The silk, though, watched Jack’s every move as he looked for somewhere to sit, as far away from them as possible.
The room was littered with counsel in ones and twos on the sofas around the sides of the room, or having breakfast at the tables. Jack sat on a sofa, out of view. Paul Effiong, opposite him, looked up and nodded. Something was afoot. Paramount was not only the most successful chambers, it was also the most tightly-knit. Effiong was not sitting with his colleagues, nor – even more surprisingly – with his leader.
Chapter 82
Mr Justice Skart’s summing up was watertight. His Lordship directed the jury on all relevant areas of law: burden and standard of proof, what the Crown must prove, the drawing of inferences, character, circumstantial evidence – the list went on.
Although the judge gave the standard direction on duress, Jack still winced when he heard it. ‘Members of the jury, in deciding whether Carl Marpit was acting under duress, you must ask yourselves two questions. Firstly, was the defendant impelled to act as he did because he feared death or serious physical injury would be visited on his daughter? Secondly, if so, did he respond as a sober person of reasonable firmness would have done, sharing the characteristics of the defendant? If you reach the second question, members of the jury, you may want to consider the immediacy of the threat and the time during which the defendant claims to have been acting under duress. You may want to consider also the opportunities he had to take evasive action, such as reporting the matter to the police. Though it is entirely a matter for you, you may conclude that his opportunities to take a different course were quite considerable.’
