Crusaders

by Richard T. Kelly

  DC R. Chisholm

  7 December 1996

  Dear Lindy,

  I am very much afraid you won’t read this. I would not blame you. I am old enough to know there are times when forgiveness can’t be asked for, when things can’t be undone. This, I know, is how I stand before you.

  If I may beg just one thing of you it’s that, please, however you are feeling now, don’t discard this page but take a moment to read and consider its contents. Please set your proper antipathy to one side if only for one moment and allow me to be of use.

  It is your right to understand fully why things took the awful course they did, for which I am essentially culpable, though some matters were beyond my control. For my part it was truly only that I wanted – and so badly – to drive off a shadow from your life and Jake’s. Probably the action I chose was not my choice to make, but its undoing was the result of evil misfortune – and other more actively malign motives. It wasn’t meant to happen as it did. I was myself let down, by a man from whom I had received certain assurances, ones he later neglected, albeit in ‘the heat of the moment’. There are other matters I will never be able to properly explain. But I understand that Brian Shackleton remains part of the police investigation, and please believe me, you must on no account have anything to do with him from now.

  With these care proceedings now underway you will need all the support you can get. I learned through a friend at the Citizens Advice Bureau that you had the services of Mr Redbill, that he is rated a good solicitor, and that legal aid is available. I contacted Redbill and we have agreed that I will provide a substantive written statement in your support. I take it you would feel as I do that for me to appear in person would not be productive. But I dearly hope that I might be helpful when it comes to the final hearing.

  The local authority will be a hard opponent. It’s possible they will make some effort to discredit you, seek ‘expert assessment’, use whatever facts suit their petition. You will have to fight, to draw on all your reserves. But for Jake to be placed permanently in care would be a grave assumption of responsibility on the part of the council, and I understand that many judges fear, rightly, that such an outcome can be a disaster for a child. Hence a great deal of evidence and persuasion has to be put. I am certain you can challenge anything that emerges.

  Forgive me if I state your predicament as if I were not, in part, a cause of it.

  You have been a victim of my failure of nerve. I have been made to pay for it myself, though I don’t compare our losses in the slightest. If I could take your place, take on to myself what you have been through, I would do so.

  I only want you to know that I never lied to you. My failings are many, but this was not among them. I say so not to claim some useless credit, only so you know that from the first to the last of our acquaintance, whenever I spoke of my feelings for you, it was truly felt, and more so than anything in my life.

  With my love,

  John

  B4/1997/1419

  IN THE COURT OF APPEAL (CIVIL DIVISION)

  ON APPEAL FROM NEWCASTLE COUNTY COURT

  BEFORE: LORD JUSTICE MONCRIEFF, LORD JUSTICE WRAITH

  IN THE MATTER OF J (A CHILD)

  JUDGEMENT (as approved by the Court)

  1. LORD JUSTICE MONCRIEFF: The parties to this appeal are the local authority; the mother Miss C; and the sole relevant child, J, as represented by his appointed guardian.

  2. Miss C is the mother of J who was born on 3 June 1990. She seeks permission to appeal against orders made in care proceedings relating to the child instituted by the Local Authority.

  3. The involvement of the Local Authority was pursuant to the killing of Miss C’s estranged partner and J’s father, Mr C, by persons unknown at the family address on 24 November 1996. The killing led to the issue of care proceedings on 27 November 1996, so as to remove J from the home. Social Services were not satisfied that J was safe from harm in his mother’s care, owing to the violent circumstances of Mr C’s death and the degree to which this episode furnished evidence of the appellant’s neglect of J.

  4. J was first placed under police protection for 72 hours and housed by Social Services. An Emergency Protection Order was obtained subsequently. A guardian ad litem was appointed to represent J in the proceedings by CAFCASS.

  5. On 10 February 1997, at the conclusion of a contested first hearing, HHJ Flint placed J in the interim care of the Local Authority for an eight-week term until the final hearing, deciding with the Authority that there were indeed good reasons the child might come to harm. In his judgement he noted the dire events of 24 November 1996, Social Services’ report of Miss C’s lack of co-operation with them, and the assertion that Miss C had told untruths to police officers that had hindered the investigation. It was further the judge’s view that Miss C required a psychiatric assessment.

  6. On 24 February 1997 Miss C appeared at an oral hearing contesting the interim care order, her case argued by Mr Redbill, but was not successful.

  7. On 7 April 1997 HHJ Middleton presided over the final hearing of the care proceedings, now paying special attention to the issue of the well-known ‘threshold criteria’. The document produced by the Local Authority referred to section 31(2)(a) of the Children Act 1989, so asking had Child J suffered or was he likely to suffer significant harm? (Here we understand that harm may include impairment suffered from seeing or hearing ill-treatment of another.) And per section 31(2)(b), would any such harm be attributable to J not receiving the parental care it would be reasonable to expect Ms C to give? The local authority concluded, sub-paragraph (E): ‘The past history of Miss C’s behaviour, indeed her behaviour in the course of this investigation, do nothing to allay our concerns.’

  8. In the final hearing this question of Miss C’s personality and temperament, her lifestyle and associations, came under close scrutiny. Moreover a great deal of the judgement was to be concerned with the historic past as well as the relevant present. Miss C was cross-examined by Ms Quine for the Authority, and I can well understand that HHJ Middleton was shocked by aspects of how Miss C managed her life and household, and the role of J’s late father in same. An account emerged of a chaotic and unsettled environment, one where the violence of 24 November could be seen in somewhat of a context, and the potential for reprisal also weighed. All these were plainly relevant to the threshold criteria and the welfare of J. The evidence of the child psychologist Dr Motter was also key here.

  9. There was no dispute that the threshold had been established. The only issue was the appropriate form of order in respect of the child’s welfare: whether a Supervision Order would be sufficient, or whether J’s interests could only be protected by the Local Authority assuming parental responsibility through a Care Order.

  10. HHJ Middleton’s definition of the essential issue comes in paragraph 52 of her judgement, when she says: ‘All agree that a risk to J remains, even if quantified as a low risk at the moment. It is my finding that for the foreseeable future the local authority need to assume parental responsibility to minimise that risk.’

  11. Thus Miss C sought permission to appeal. The application was settled by Mr Ian Redbill QC and in the interim Mr Philip Leigh, for the guardian, filed a skeleton supporting the appeal and Ms Quine a skeleton resisting.

  12. To the crux: we have seen that HHJ Middleton’s judgement is necessarily preoccupied with evaluations of Miss C’s behaviour – none of which Miss C can challenge, as they were plainly open to the judge to make. I am drawn to the following remarks in particular: ‘I am satisfied that if I were to return this boy to his mother’s care, his life will nevertheless be overshadowed profoundly by the effect of her deeply troubled personality. I consider the risk of same to outweigh the benefits of a reunion, this despite their evident bonds of affection.’

  13. Mr Redbill’s assertion of Miss C’s willingness to change her way of life is noted. He also drew proper attention to the extended remarks in the written statement supplied by a friend
of Miss C’s who is an Anglican priest and clearly holds her personal qualities in the highest regard.

  14. I find, however, the first judgement clear and properly made out as to the risk of ‘significant harm’. HHJ Middleton has not overlooked an appreciation of Miss C’s love for her child and its reciprocation. She dealt with the facts, but also directed herself appropriately as to the law. I find no fault in the care order and see no prospect of success for Miss C’s application.

  15. The local authority has managed the protection very professionally, for it is indeed a highly difficult case, but one in which the best interests of J have been the first priority. I am satisfied by their considered long-term care plan as presented, and encouraged by their early identification of suitable adopters for J.

  16. In these circumstances, therefore, I would respectfully refuse to grant permission to the application.

  17. LORD JUSTICE WRAITH: I entirely agree with the Lord Justice Moncrieff, and there is nothing that I can usefully add. Order: Application refused.

  EPILOGUE

  Wednesday, 16 April 1997

  ‘Hello there, stranger, mind if I sit?’

  She waited for an answer, as others probably wouldn’t, and upon his semi-obliging half-smile she slid herself into the facing chair. Shortly she was attended by the waitress – a sweet-looking girl but for a regrettable stud in her nose – and she dithered a little over her choice of cake or tart to accompany the pot of Earl Grey. Thus was she chastened a little by his frugal request for black coffee.

  ‘You’ll not have a pastry? I’d have two if I were you, there’s nowt on you. I only wish I could keep it off.’

  The corners of his mouth twitched. Come on, pet, she was thinking, a little nicety won’t kill you. Her half-dozen colleagues in the canvassing team were sat as one on the far shore of the tea-shop counter, clearly a little mutinous and muttering, and with a certain justification, when their alleged leader – this frowning man whom they hadn’t met before today – sat himself apart and alone, perusing the Mail and the Sun, of all the wretched things.

  But Mrs Margaret Deveson was nothing but a trier. Her calling as a hospice nurse was not one that allowed her to hide when she felt less than gladsome. Today – a bright spring day with a chill that put cherries in her cheeks – she was reasonably chipper. She would not rush to judgement. It was generally her view that solitary types wanted saving from themselves, or else they would have made a more thoroughgoing job of their solitude.

  She tapped his pile of newsprint, which he had not entirely set aside.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re reading for pleasure.’

  ‘Not a bit. Just better to know the enemy’s mind. When there’s a war on.’

  She deemed that worthy of a chuckle. ‘Well, maybe so, but you want to watch. You’ll lose points off good Labour folk, sat with them dirty rags.’

  He was stirring a spoon needlessly round his coffee cup. ‘I don’t know that my first impression was so great.’

  Since he had shown himself not impervious, she favoured him with a more serious tack. ‘Listen, you won’t take it personal, I hope, but the others? They are a bit wary of you. I said to them, I said, “Look – he’s got this job, he must be good.” But, you know, with people not knowing your face, and you not from round here –’

  ‘I am, in fact. But that’s not the point. No, I understand – if it seems like I’m an imposition. A fiat. But I’m only here to help.’

  ‘And, have I got it right? You’re sent from the regional office? You’re one of them organisers?’

  ‘No, no, I’m from HQ. Millbank? The task forces? Have you heard of them? They’re only set up for the election, not the long run. So I’m just here to observe and support. Maybe advise if I can, just on presentation. “Message and delivery” they call it.’

  ‘Right, so that’s your expertise, is it?’

  ‘No, I just went for the job like anyone else.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve done a lot of it, but – presentation, public speaking. Acting.’

  ‘Okay, well – you see, I’ve been a Labour member all my life, the local parties are very close-knit, you might know. They have to be. So they’re not so keen on being given what for.’

  He leaned forward and gestured impatiently, rather taking her aback. ‘Margaret, I couldn’t agree more. I joined when I was fourteen. But you’ve got to remember, there just aren’t so many members any more. Sometimes you have to hire bodies in to get things done. When the stakes are this high.’ He stopped, as if mindful of a stridency in his tone. ‘I don’t say I’m better than anyone, trust me. I’m just here to ensure the message gets over.’

  ‘So what’s that, then? The message?’

  ‘Come on, Margaret, you know very well, I’m sure.’

  The note of complicity pleased her, and she nestled back cosily with her tea. ‘Well, I must say, I told the others, after you’d said your little piece to us this morning, I said, “There’s a man can express himself.” I was watching you a bit and all, as we went along, you’re good on the stump.’

  ‘Well, I ought to be,’ he said, in the direction of his chest.

  They had passed the morning prior to this short break dawdling through the narrow and well-thronged streets of Durham City, urging the re-election of the sitting MP. The Market Place was to be their afternoon’s stall, and it was visible to them now from the upper windows of the Special Treat tea-room on Saddler Street. Mrs Deveson let her gaze rest on the dallying human traffic through the glass. ‘It makes me laugh, but, them uns who’d do anything not to stop for you. Looking over your head or at their watches and that. Like they’re so busy. I want to shout at them, “I don’t want your money.” And some of these kids you see, all in black, like death warmed up. I should talk, mind you, my daughter’s girl’s going a bit that way. No time for her granny any more, oh no.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m told you get twelve nice years with them. Then they’d rather, on the whole, you were dead.’

  She smiled, though the witticism, if such it was, struck her as off-key. ‘I tell you summat else gets up my nose. The students. You’d think they’d have a view on an election. I thought they were all good Tory-haters. They’re supposed to be curious, at least, aren’t they? About the world? But they act like you’re not worth their time either. The accents on them and all. Public school, I suppose. Rugger-buggers. I say that, you’re not a rugby man, are you?’ His breadth of shoulder and stunningly bent nose had caused her to question her manners suddenly.

  ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘But yeah, you’re right. My granddad used to say there’s two sides to Durham. Ne’er the twain shall meet.’

  ‘Oh, your family are from Durham then?’

  ‘I’m from Durham. Pity Me.’ He jerked a thumb at the window.

  ‘Pity Me! Oh! Know it well. You do get some names around these parts, don’t you?’

  ‘You do that.’

  Belatedly she was getting interested. ‘But you’ll not have spent much of your life here?’

  ‘Until I went off to college. Then I started working, you know … but I moved back up last year, for a bit.’

  ‘So what were you doing before this? Was it for the Party?’

  ‘No, no. I was a – I was a priest, actually. An Anglican priest.’

  ‘You never were!’

  ‘It’s true. I was due to take a post here, but it all fell through at the last. So I was unemployed. But it meant I could get involved with the Party again. Then, you know, the election was called, I heard they were hiring, so …’

  ‘And – but – you’re still a vicar then, are you? Or not?’

  He looked to the window. ‘I’m on a bit of a sabbatical.’

  ‘My. Well, this’ll all be a bit of a change of pace, I suppose?’

  ‘Not so much. Still a lot of talking to people who don’t want to hear. For not much money.’

  ‘Oh but now, that’s God’s work for you, isn’t it?’ She savoured the taste of her own wit. ‘Right, and th
at’ll be where you get your good voice from then? The old sermons, eh?’

  ‘It’s not such a transferable skill, but yes, I suppose.’ She could sense his retreat from the colloquy. ‘I’ve not got a watch, is it time we shifted?’

  ‘We’ve a good ten minutes yet,’ said Mrs Deveson.

  ‘It’s just I’ve to run a small errand, before we start up again? But I’ll see you back in the Market Place for two.’

  ‘Okey-doke. Long as you’re not late for our star guest.’

  ‘He can wait.’

  As her new friend John pulled on his coat she dabbled her fingers in the crumbs of her fruit slice. ‘So will you stay up here then? After the election?’

  ‘No, I expect I’ll troop back to London. See if there’s anything else going.’

  ‘Where are you stopping? While you’re here?’

  ‘With my dad. Out in Framwellgate Moor.’

  ‘Ah. Nice to have home still, eh?’

  They rose, and she turned and shot a look at her colleagues, similarly stirring. He had resumed his frowning over the front pages of the papers.

  ‘What do you reckon to his chances then?’

  ‘Home and dry with a bigger majority, I’d have thought.’

  ‘Not our man, I mean Blair. In the country? I’ve still got my worries, see.’

  ‘I wouldn’t. He’ll be in by a mile. People should stop flapping.’