by Olly Jarvis
Jack’s eyes met hers for a moment, acknowledging their shared history.
‘May it please, Your Honour,’ Hornby began in his polished young prosecutor’s voice. ‘The defendant faces counts of causing grievous bodily harm with intent, and burglary.’
The judge began typing on her laptop.
‘The complainant is in hospital as a direct result of the assault. The defendant’s blood and DNA were found at the scene and as yet, even with the trial only a week away, no explanation or anything resembling a defence has been disclosed.’
‘Objections to bail?’
‘Two – likelihood of absconding, in that he faces a lengthy custodial sentence if convicted, and also likelihood of committing further offences. Your Honour will see from the defendant’s antecedents that he has a history of offending whilst on bail for offences charges of burglary and violence.’
‘Mm, and still only eighteen. Quite a history for one so young,’ she said, reading through the list. ‘You have an uphill battle, Mr Kowalski,’ she observed, peering at Jack over her spectacles.
Jack got to his feet. About to make his submission, his mind flicked back to his last bail application and its consequences. He lost his train of thought.
Hornby looked across at Jack, then winked at Lara. Every lawyer in court knew what was happening. Lara almost regretted putting pressure on him to take the case.
‘Mr Kowalski, are you all right?’ Her Honour’s concern brought Jack back.
‘Yes… yes… thank you, Your Honour.’ He rubbed his forehead whilst Lara poured some water into a plastic cup.
He took a sip and a deep breath, then he began. ‘Regardless of the outcome of this trial, Gary Dixon loses if he is not bailed today. He has one chance to leave a life of crime behind, and that is with the car mechanic course for young offenders, on which he has excelled. He has an apprenticeship lined up and a future – all dependent on him completing the course and sitting the exam this Friday.’
Jack was getting into his flow, and he could see that the judge was at least listening to his submission. ‘The strength of this application comes from the stature of the man offering to stand surety. He is the defendant’s key-worker and course manager, Donovan James, and he’s prepared to put up £5,000 of his own money, which of course would be forfeited if the defendant fails to attend at his trial.’
‘Well, that is unusual, is he here?’
‘Just outside, Your Honour.’
‘I’d like to hear from him, can you bring him in, Madam usher? And while we’re waiting, how is the complainant? Is it Mr…’
‘Mr Ross, Your Honour,’ said Hornby. ‘Fortunately, the injury wasn’t as serious as first feared. I understand that he’s on the mend. We don’t have a statement yet, he is still recovering his memory of events.’
Moments later, Jammer was led into court and swore an oath on the Bible.
‘Thank you for coming, Mr James,’ said the judge, immediately taken with the man standing in the witness box. ‘I know you’re very busy, but I would just like to say that whatever the outcome of this bail application, we are all very cognizant of the extraordinary work you and others like you are doing in the most deprived areas of the city, and in very difficult circumstances.’
‘Thank you, ma’am. That means a lot, particularly from someone as eminent as you.’
She beamed.
‘Now, I see you’re offering a surety and I see from the written application…’ She picked it up. ‘A condition of residence is offered at your own home?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Not the norm, I know, but I have a spare room and I have a lot of faith in this kid.’
‘An admirable commitment, Mr James, My decision today is no reflection on you or the important work you’re doing. It’s important to me that you know that.’
Jack and Lara could see which way it was going.
‘Any questions, Mr Hornby?’
‘One or two, Your Honour.’
The pompous young advocate couldn’t resist the opportunity to destroy Dixon, even though the hearing was already won. ‘You must have felt very let down by Gary, your best student?’
‘He’s not been convicted yet.’
‘You’ve seen the evidence, Mr James. And no defence statement has been served. What are we to think?’
Unflustered, Jammer replied: ‘He has trust issues – a difficult childhood. I’m sure there’s more to this. He just needs to open up to his lawyers. I will help with that, if he’s bailed to my place. He’s never had any stability, lived all over. His last address was the sofa of his older brother’s council flat – a very negative influence.’
‘And you are a positive influence, are you?’
‘I’d like to think so.’
‘Because I have a list of your previous convictions here. Dishonesty and extreme violence is the theme.’
‘Mr Hornby!’ exclaimed her Honour. ‘That line of questioning is wholly inappropriate. Mr James is not on trial.’
Jack decided not to intervene.
‘It’s OK, Your Honour.’ Jammer raised his arms in surrender. ‘You got me. Just an ageing villain.’
Hornby didn’t quite know how to react.
‘But that’s why I understand these kids. I’ve been there. Believe me, there’s no money in it, not like your game.’
Hornby opened his mouth to respond, but Her Honour was in no mood for more. ‘That’s enough, Mr Hornby, I think I’ve heard quite enough.’
‘I just want to be thorough, Your Honour,’ said the prosecutor. ‘I’m sure Your Honour knows how easy it is to make a mistake with these applications?’
‘What did you say?’ Beddingfield demanded.
Realizing he’d overstepped the mark: ‘Nothing, Your Honour.’
‘Are you quite sure there’s nothing else you’d like to say, Mr Hornby?’
‘No, Your Honour,’ came the mumbled reply.
Jack made to get up but before he was on his feet, the judge said: ‘I don’t need to hear further from you, Mr Kowalski.’ Without any hesitation, she gave judgment: ‘I’m granting bail with an electronically monitored curfew, seven pm until seven am, and a condition of residence at Mr James’s address. I’m quite sure he can keep an eye on the defendant.’ She turned to Jammer, who was still in the box: ‘You do appreciate, Mr James, that you are liable to lose £5,000 if Mr Dixon fails to attend?’
‘Yes, Your Honour. He’ll be here. I’ll make sure of it.’
‘Very well, that concludes this hearing.’
Jack was in awe of the judge’s courage, after everything that happened. It gave him strength.
As soon as Her Honour had risen, Hornby, avoiding the defence team, picked up his iPad and left court. He had to justify the result to Khan and the CPS.
Lara decided to hold off from mentioning Jack’s mini meltdown. ‘Great result, Jack,’ she said as they left the courtroom. ‘It’s a bit early for lunch, but how about some dim sum – on me?’
‘Now you’re talking,’ Jack replied, ‘but I’m paying.’ They hadn’t sat down and had a proper chat for months. This was the reason he’d come back to the Bar. All his worries faded away when he was with her.
‘I’ve got to say bye to Jammer and make a few calls,’ said Lara. ‘See you at the Yang Sing in twenty?’
‘Great, see you there.’ As Jack headed off along the concourse, Jammer called out: ‘Thanks, Mr Kowalski… in the day when I cried out, you answered me.’
Jack stopped. He knew that verse from the Bible. It made him think of Timothy Smart’s letter.
Chapter 26
The Yang Sing was on Portland Street, in Chinatown. The basement was full, and thick with conversations in Chinese and English.
Lara was sat in a corner booth. ‘Hope you don’t mind, I’ve ordered,’ she said.
‘No problem.’ He was just glad to be in her company, and to have been asked. She had already poured the jasmine tea. ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting bail on this one.’
> ‘Maybe this time I should feel guilty,’ she said.
‘You, why?’
‘Beddingfield only bailed him because Richard pissed her off – he was trying to impress me.’
‘Maybe,’ Jack replied. She always said it how it was, no bullshit. ‘But it’s not your fault he’s an arse.’
They both laughed.
‘Har gow and su mei,’ said the waitress, placing two bamboo baskets on the table.
Jack watched Lara remove a lid, then pick up a prawn dumpling between her chopsticks and place it delicately in her mouth. Spending time together had made him yearn for her all over again. The longing was so painful. It had been there over the last few weeks, just buried under all the grief.
‘We need to have a con with Gary in chambers,’ Lara asked. ‘Before you get too caught up in the rape?’
Jack agreed. ‘I need to find out what his defence is.’ His thoughts drifted back to Smart’s note.
‘Is everything OK, Jack?’
‘Of course, I’m fine,’ he replied, straightening up.
‘You seem, I dunno, a bit flat. What happened in Court? For a moment you were miles away.’
‘I’m tired, I guess,’ he offered. ‘These cases, and you know, the Smart thing.’
‘Not that still?’
‘Yeah, I had this today.’ He pulled out the letter and handed it to Lara.
She read out loud: ‘But if you do that which is evil, be afraid; for he bears not the sword in vain:’ She glanced up at Jack before continuing: ‘…for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath on him that does evil.’
Neither spoke for a few seconds, then Lara said: ‘He’s completely mad. Don’t let this freak you out, Jack. He’s locked up and he isn’t going anywhere soon.’
‘I know, it’s not that,’ he replied, tapping a chopstick on the table.
The waitress reappeared and laid out some more dishes: ‘Crispy wonton and soft rice-roll with pork.’
Lara’s eyes remained fixed on Jack.
Once the waitress had moved away, he said: ‘I thought it was a threat at first.’ He paused, knowing Lara might ridicule what he was about to say. ‘Now I think, maybe, maybe he’s trying to tell me something. Something important.’
‘What, like why he did it?’ Lara replied. ‘Come off it. If you’re so interested, you can always have the case back. Ken would love it, he’s had real problems getting decent counsel.’
‘Lucky Smart’s unfit then. He has to accept who he’s given.’
Lara shrugged. ‘But he obviously likes you.’
‘I’ve never even met the bloke.’
‘Ah, but you got him bail.’
‘I know you’re taking the piss but even if you weren’t, I would never go near that case again – not after what happened. Anyway, it’s a murder, needs a silk.’
‘Then stop going on about it, jesus.’
They sat in silence.
Lara watched him prod a dumpling with a chopstick. ‘Can you try and think more quietly, Jack? You’re doing my head in.’
Finally, he said: ‘Have you been on a site visit?’
‘To see a burnt out house?’
‘Shall we go now?’
‘What? You are joking?’
‘It’s billable time, isn’t it? And I want to see where it all happened.’
‘You’re really starting to creep me out, Jack.’
He gave Lara an intense stare. ‘It might help me come to terms with things,’ he said. ‘You know, if I see where it all happened. A spring drive out to Cheshire could be fun, too.’
‘Is that a smile?’ Lara replied. ‘How can I refuse?’
Chapter 27
Timothy Smart’s family home was in Over Alderley, an exclusive part of Cheshire, fifteen miles from Manchester. The perfect location for rich commuters who wanted a taste of country life.
‘Lovely setting,’ said Jack, as Lara drove down the leafy driveway towards a small turning circle. Blooming daffodils on either side of the gravel provided a guard of honour for the young lawyers.
‘Must’ve been a very good accountant,’ said Lara.
Jack’s mouth went dry as the burnt-out shell of a farmhouse came into view. Charred black timbers spilled out onto the drive. Part of the roof had fallen in.
Before getting out, they sat for a moment, seduced by the stillness of the place, disturbed only by the birdsong. ‘He had it all,’ said Jack.
‘Yeah.’
‘Money, wife, kids, great job, lovely house. Why?’
‘He’s mad,’ offered Lara as they got out and trudged across the gravel towards the house.
‘What happened to the children?’
‘Living with Natasha’s mother, Joyce. She’s the one that broke it to them.’
Jack shuddered.
Lara waited at the entrance as Jack pulled back a piece of insecure chipboard. He stepped carefully over the black debris. A smell of damp and smoke hung in the air.
‘What are you looking for?’ Lara called out,
‘I don’t know,’ Jack replied, scanning the bricks and broken beams strewn across what had once been the hall. Arms out at either side, he moved uncertainly over a pile of rubble and through an archway to what must have been the lounge. He could see Lara, framed by the open doorway, silhouetted by the sun.
Nothing identifiable remained, only evidence of the fire’s intensity. He opened a few drawers that had survived the inferno and picked up a book blackened at the edges. It was a Bible. Had it survived because it contained God’s word, he wondered, conscious of his own Catholic indoctrination and superstition. It fell open at a page where the corner had been turned down. A passage from Luke 2:49 had been underlined:
‘And he said to them, ‘why is it that you were looking for me?’
The words jumped out at Jack, but he couldn’t understand why. Was it because of his own struggle with religion, caused by his mother’s painful death? Or was he trying to find God, or was Smart somehow calling out to him? Jack slammed the book shut.
‘Hello.’ A male voice.
Jack jumped, instinctively putting the book back and closing the drawer.
‘I’ll go round the front.’
The voice had come through a gap in one of the boarded-up windows.
By the time Jack had managed to scramble back outside, Lara was talking to a man wearing a hoodie, shorts and trainers.
‘I keep an eye out. Usually it’s just kids messing about.’
‘Hope you don’t mind, Michael?’
‘No, of course not. You’re his lawyer, after all. I do worry about the lack of security, though. Anyone can wander in.’
‘Mm,’ Lara agreed.
‘Nobody wants to spend any money,’ Michael explained. ‘What with the inheritance all up in the air.’
‘It all depends on the trial,’ said Jack, brushing the debris off his trousers. ‘Smart can’t inherit Natasha’s share if he’s convicted of murder.’
‘Correct,’ Michael replied.
‘Father Michael, this is Jack Kowalski.’
‘Hi,’ said Jack, taking in the tall, athletic man before him. ‘A priest?’ Jack found himself asking.
‘I know,’ replied Michael. ‘I don’t fit the stereotype of a white-haired Irishman with a taste for communion wine. I live just over there.’ He pointed over the top of a large rhododendron bush, its red buds almost in flower.
‘Michael was a good friend of Tim Smart,’ said Lara.
‘Is,’ corrected Michael, holding out his hand. ‘Jack Kowalski?’
‘Yes,’ Jack replied.
‘The barrister that got Tim bail?’
‘Yes,’ Jack confessed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I heard how it affected you.’
Jack felt embarrassed.
‘I thought you were off the case?’ he asked.
‘I am.’ Requiring further explanation, he added: ‘I wanted to… to…’
‘He wanted to help me with
something,’ interrupted Lara. ‘I needed to see the house.’
The priest looked Jack up and down. ‘Well, if you change your mind, we could do with your help. Tim’s not a cold-blooded killer, he’s unwell. He needs us.’
‘Michael has given a statement,’ Lara explained. ‘He said Tim was ill for some time.’
‘For months,’ Michael replied, keen to tell his story. ‘It got worse over time, he became more and more obsessive.’
‘Obsessive?’ Jack felt himself being drawn in even further. ‘About what?’
‘Religion.’ He paused. ‘I know that sounds ridiculous coming from a man who has dedicated his life to God.’
‘Not at all,’ said Lara. ‘We know exactly what you mean.’
‘He wasn’t just a parishioner and a neighbour, he was a good friend. Still is. We’re about the same age. We’d go mountain biking and stuff.’
Why did this man feel the need to explain himself, Jack wondered.
‘By the end, all he wanted to do was pray. Kept turning up at the church and just sitting there in the pews.’ Michael became more animated, running a hand through his hair. Remembering was clearly painful for him. ‘Natasha couldn’t cope. I came up to the house a few times to see them, to try and understand. Maybe I could’ve done more? Seen it coming?’
‘How could you know he was going to get bail?’ said Jack bitterly.
‘No, I meant the rape.’
Jack had forgotten how the police first became involved.
‘Don’t blame yourself, Michael,’ said Lara, more for Jack’s benefit. ‘No one can be held responsible for the actions of others.’
‘I’m guessing the rape’s been dropped?’ asked Jack.
‘Yep, no complainant,’ said Lara.
‘I thought the prosecution could just read Natasha’s statement to the jury?’ asked Michael.
‘Not when it’s pretty much the whole case. It’s too prejudicial when the defence can’t cross-examine her. No way of testing her account.’
‘Poor Natasha,’ Michael said, lowering his head, almost in prayer.
Jack felt waves of guilt and anguish wash over him.
Lara sensed it was time to go. ‘We’d better be off, Father.’
‘OK.’ He remained standing on the driveway. ‘God be with you.’
