Unconvicted
Page 15
‘I do,’ came the response. ‘He may have given her an ecstasy tablet?’
‘That’s right, My Lord. The defence believe this man is a tabloid newspaper reporter called Gregory Styles.’ Jack distributed the photographs. ‘I appreciate the footage on the CCTV is not the best, but there does appear to be a similarity with this photograph.’
Skart studied the picture. ‘And where do you say this takes the case?’
Jack knew the only way to play this judge was with a straight bat. ‘My Lord, this information came to me very late, but I am very concerned that if this isn’t explored now, and the defendant is convicted, there could be a fresh evidence appeal, which if successful might result in the complainant having to give evidence all over again.’
McVey was on her feet. ‘My Lord, this is the first we’ve heard of it, my learned friend isn’t even able to establish relevance. We’re not going to bring the complainant back to endure what is obviously just a fishing expedition by Mr Kowalski.’
‘I agree,’ said Jack quickly. ‘I must lay the foundation first. My application at this stage is not for the complainant to be recalled, but for a witness summons for Mr Styles. That could be served by my instructing solicitor whilst we proceed with the rest of the Crown’s case. Your Lordship could hold a voir dire in the absence of the jury to establish whether he can give relevant evidence.’
Skart considered the submission. ‘I will issue the summons, but he must be here this morning, I’m not prepared to waste any more time on it. Miss McVey, perhaps a police officer should accompany Mr Kowalski’s solicitor?’
McVey bowed. ‘Yes, My Lord.’
Putting to the back of his mind the realization that there was no way he would make Dixon’s trial, Jack handed a bewildered Statham the contact details for Styles. ‘Text me as soon as you’ve found him.’
The rest of the morning proceeded without incident, both counsel anxiously awaiting the arrival of the new witness, neither knowing what, if anything, he would say. Then, another stroke of luck for the defence: McVey informed the judge that they hadn’t been able to find the witness who’d made the rape allegation in Poland. The jury would be kept in the dark as far as Nowak’s previous skirmish with the law was concerned.
Jack was beginning to feel that all was not necessarily lost for Gustaw Nowak.
At last, the text came through – Statham was on his way back, in a police car with a reluctant Gregory Styles.
Twenty minutes before the short adjournment, Statham tugged at Jack’s gown. ‘He’s outside.’
‘Has he said anything?’
‘No, he’s going on about journalistic privilege.’
Jack told Skart they were ready to deal with a matter of law.
The judge sent the jury out. ‘Mr Kowalski?’
‘My Lord,’ said Jack, ‘I would ask that the witness be called by the court, so that I may have the freedom to cross-examine him?’
‘That’s not my usual practice.’
‘But, My Lord, the court must act in the interests of justice.’
He considered the request, then: ‘Very well, bring him in.’
Moments later, the usher led Mr Styles into the witness box. He was wearing a tatty brown suit, with a beige raincoat draped over one arm, which he placed carefully on a chair behind him. His eyes darted nervously around the courtroom, finally settling on defence counsel.
Once the witness had taken the oath, Jack began: ‘State your full name for the court please?’
‘Gregory Styles.’
‘What is your occupation?’
‘Journalist.’
‘Who do you work for?’
‘Self-employed.’
Jack wasted no time: ‘Do you know someone called Lauren Riley?’
Styles stiffened, then delivered what appeared to be some kind of stock-in-trade get out of jail phrase: ‘I will not answer questions about my work as any answer or failure to answer may lead to the identification of a confidential source.’
‘I will decide what questions you don’t have to answer,’ Skart replied.
‘But, My Lord…’ protested Styles.
What might have worked with a magistrate, or even a circuit judge, was not going to deter a member of the High Court bench. ‘If you do not answer the questions posed by counsel, I will hold you in contempt and you can go down to the cells until you do.’
Styles was nonplussed.
‘Proceed, Mr Kowalski,’ said Skart.
‘Do you know Lauren Riley?’
Styles was about to address Skart again, but on seeing the old judge glaring at him, he thought better of it. ‘I know her.’
Everyone in court now knew Kowalski was onto something.
‘Please view this footage, Mr Styles,’ Jack said, trying to control his excitement.
The usher pressed play.
‘This was in February of this year, from Ambro’s Nightclub. Is that you leaning on the bar?’
The witness viewed the footage. ‘Looks like it could be me.’
‘Could be?’ Jack repeated.
‘All right, probably is me.’
‘Do you remember having a conversation with Miss Riley in Ambro’s in February of this year?’
‘Possibly.’
‘You are under oath, Mr Styles,’ Skart reminded him.
‘I think I do recall a conversation.’
McVey turned around and whispered to the rest of the prosecution team.
The anticipation made Jack’s mouth go dry. He took a sip of water. ‘What was said?’
A furtive peek at the judge, then: ‘We talked about Gustaw Nowak.’
Jack’s pulse was racing. ‘My Lord, this is already in conflict with Miss Riley’s account. Perhaps the remainder of his evidence should be before the jury?’
‘Miss McVey?’
She had no grounds on which to object.
Once the jury were brought in, Jack led what had been heard thus far, then asked the crucial question: ‘What was said about Mr Nowak?’
‘Just that he was a new footballer in town, the next big thing, and that there was a lot of press interest.’
The jury were transfixed.
‘So you told her about Nowak?’
‘Yes.’
‘And she decided to go and speak to him?’
‘Yes.’
‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You put something in her purse?
Styles shifted uneasily. ‘I might’ve given her a few hundred quid.’
‘Not drugs?’
‘Course not. What do you think I am?’
‘So what was the money for?’
‘Information, that might be used in a story.’
‘Come on, Mr Styles. You approached an attractive young woman in a nightclub, who had never met Mr Nowak. You were paying her to go and speak to him, weren’t you?’
‘Well, yes, if you put it like that.’
‘But conversation alone doesn’t make a story, does it?’
Styles didn’t answer.
‘You wanted her to sleep with him, didn’t you?’
Styles looked over at the judge.
‘Answer the question, Mr Styles,’ said Skart.
‘Well, that was the general idea.’
‘Because you were paying her for what the tabloids call a “kiss-and-tell” story?’
‘Some people call it that.’
‘You set up a honey trap, didn’t you?’
‘Nobody made Nowak do anything he didn’t want to.’
‘You must’ve known he was in a long-term relationship?’
‘I knew something of that.’
‘And that’s why his sex life, more specifically, his infidelity, would make a story.’
‘The public have a right to know.’
‘But it’s not a real story when you’re directing events, is it?’
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ came the belligerent response.
‘I don’t know what you mean?’
‘You don’t go up to a complete stranger and pay her money to do a job, do you?’
‘She was a pretty girl, she’d given me some information before, and I knew she worked as an escort.’
‘What’s the relevance of this?’ McVey protested.
‘It goes to the heart of the case, My Lord,’ said Jack, calmly. ‘Whether the defendant was the victim of some sort of sting.’
Skart pondered for a moment. ‘I’ll allow it.’
‘You were saying, Mr Styles – you knew she worked as an escort?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So you thought her sexual behaviour was something that could be bought?’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘And that’s what you did, you bought it?’
‘In a way, yes.’
Jack paused so that everyone in the courtroom could take in the sensational new evidence. ‘Mr Styles, did she give you a story?’
‘No, she didn’t.’
‘But have you met with Miss Riley since that night?’
Perspiration began to appear on the reporter’s forehead. ‘Once.’
‘When exactly?’
‘Yesterday, after court?’
‘Why?’
Unable to maintain eye contact: ‘I was interested in her story.’
‘Of the alleged rape?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m sure you are well aware of the code 15 of the Editors’ Code of Practice, Mr Styles?’
‘Of course.’
‘That no offer of payment should be made to a witness prior to a verdict?’
‘She’d already given her evidence, and I never made an offer – I just told her I was interested.’
‘You just wanted to be first in the queue?’
‘Exactly,’ Styles replied, failing to notice the cynicism in Jack’s question.
‘And what about code 15 (iii) – any offer of payment to a person later cited to give evidence must be disclosed to the prosecution and defence. Don’t you think you had a duty to inform the authorities of your payment to Miss Riley in Ambro’s?’
‘There were no proceedings at that stage, so she wasn’t a potential witness.’
Jack could see Styles knew how to play the regulations. ‘What about your moral duty?’
‘I’m a journalist,’ he said with a grin, showing off his yellow, nicotine-stained teeth.
Jack sat down with Styles’ final answer ringing in the jurors’ ears.
McVey got up to try and limit the damage. ‘Can we just be clear, Mr Styles: do you know what went on in that hotel room between the defendant and Miss Riley?’
‘No idea.’
‘Did anything give you the understanding that Miss Riley planned to consent to a brutal sexual assault?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘The story you were hoping to get – did you ever get it?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because of what happened. She became a witness, a complainant in a criminal case, so I left well alone.’
McVey sat down. She had retaken some ground, but Jack still had enough to make another application. ‘My Lord—’
The High Court judge cut him off. ‘You want the complainant recalled?’
‘Yes, My Lord.’
‘Miss McVey, how can you object?’
She couldn’t. ‘We will make the arrangements.’
‘Very good. 2:15.’
Chapter 50
‘But you still haven’t told me why,’ Lauren Riley said to the person on the other end of the phone. ‘OK, OK,’ she replied, hanging up and dropping the mobile onto the kitchen table.
Her mother came in, pulled her pink dressing gown tight, then bent over the hob to light a cigarette. Taking a drag, she picked up the kettle and carried it over to the sink.
‘You’re up early,’ said Lauren sarcastically.
‘Not feeling well,’ Sharon Riley replied, filling the kettle, then replacing it on the base and taking a mug out of the cupboard.
‘Well enough for a fag though, ain’t ya?’ Lauren snapped, taking one from her own packet.
Her mother stopped what she was doing and studied Lauren’s face. ‘What is it? Who was that?’
‘That was them, I gotta go back.’
‘What d’ya mean?’
‘They wanna ask me some more questions.’ Fear and panic were taking hold. ‘Probably thought I lied or something.’
‘Why would you say that, love?’ her mother replied, reaching out to give her a hug. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’
Lauren pulled away.
Mrs Riley knew her daughter better than anyone. ‘Is there something you wanna tell me?’
‘Don’t start that again, mum.’
They stood in silence, staring at each other.
Sharon Riley felt sick. ‘What have you done, my girl?’
Lauren began to cry.
Chapter 51
Jack fought his way out of the courtroom. Excited smiles from Nowak’s parents and a wink from Jim Smith.
But despite the morning’s revelations, Jack wasn’t looking forward to publicly destroying Lauren Riley’s character. He needed to talk things through with Huntsman. He got changed then stopped off at the conference room to see Statham and the others.
Nowak was full of appreciation for his young advocate. Even Statham couldn’t hide his admiration. ‘How did you find all that out? Who told you about Styles?’
‘I got lucky, but we’ve still got a long way to go. You ready to go in the box this afternoon?’ Jack asked Nowak.
‘He’s not going in,’ Statham said.
‘What?’ Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
‘Riley’s a proven liar,’ said Statham. ‘And I’ve just been told the Polish rape allegation isn’t going in, so we don’t need to dignify the Crown’s case with a response. How can the jury be sure on this evidence?’
‘That’s a hell of a gamble,’ said Jack. ‘The jury are expecting to hear from him. The journalist’s evidence doesn’t assist with what happened in that hotel room.’
‘He’s already decided. You’ll have to win it on Lauren’s cross.’
‘Gustaw?’ Jack asked his client directly.
‘What if I do a mistake or I say something wrong? My English is not great and Miss McVey is very clever.’
‘It’s good enough, Gustaw. If you don’t go in, the jury will think you’ve got something to hide.’
Jack’s client couldn’t look at him. ‘I can’t do it.’
He wasn’t going to change his mind – Gustaw Nowak had spent his formative years with people doing everything for him. Once again, Jack was on his own.
Chapter 52
Jack found Simon Huntsman in chambers, sitting at his desk, about to take a bite out of a sausage roll. Huntsman stopped on seeing his former pupil. ‘My dear fellow, it’s just been on Sky News. You’re the talk of the clerks’ room.’ He chucked a bagged Greggs pasty across the desk. ‘Eat, you’ll need your strength this afternoon.’
‘I’m dreading it,’ Jack confessed.
‘Why? She lied to the court.’
‘But does she deserve this?’
Huntsman bit off a mouthful of sausage roll. ‘She’ll keep her anonymity whatever happens, you know that.’
‘I know, but…’ Was Jack too soft for this job?
‘You’ve got to learn to stop stressing over the rights and wrongs of everything,’ Huntsman said, wiping some stray pastry flakes off his chin. ‘No experienced barrister gives a monkey’s about the horrors they encounter every day. Water off a duck’s back, dear fellow. The only thing to worry about is messing it up. Any advocate will tell you that.’
Jack’s mind drifted to Gary Dixon. He would have to tell Lara he couldn’t do
the trial.
‘The only thing that matters,’ said Huntsman, ‘is that you did your best to win. Because if you lose and years later it comes out that somehow the client was innocent, you need to know you gave it your all, and we’ve all had that happen to us.’
Jack remembered Dobkin once giving him the same advice.
‘Just do your job, Jack,’ Huntsman reiterated, before savouring the last mouthful.
Chapter 53
‘All rise!’
Skart bowed to the court.
Tension filled the courtroom as all parties waited expectantly for the witness.
The door opened and Lauren Riley followed the usher through court to the box.
Jack could see she was afraid.
‘You’re still under oath, Miss Riley,’ said Skart. ‘Defence counsel has some more questions for you.’
Her anxious face fixed on Jack.
He began in a sympathetic tone. ‘You know the difference between truth and lies, don’t you, Miss Riley?’
‘Obviously.’
‘And that when you made your witness statement you signed that you knew that you were liable to prosecution if you said anything that you knew to be untrue?’
‘Yeah,’ she replied. Her attention flitted about the courtroom. She wanted to know where this was going.
‘Who was the man you met up with after court yesterday?’
The question seemed to push her backwards.
No reply, then: ‘What d’ya mean?
‘I mean, who was he?’
Silence from the witness.
Jack decided not to prolong her agony. ‘You met with a newspaper reporter, didn’t you? A man called Greg Styles?’
Lauren gulped then bought some time by taking a sip of water. ‘I never arranged to meet him, he came up to me.’
‘Why?’
‘Wanted to buy my story. I never agreed to owt.’
‘You’d met him before, hadn’t you?’
A pause. ‘Maybe.’
‘That night in Ambro’s?’
Trapped, she became more aggressive: ‘What you tryin’ to say?’
‘Just answer the question, Miss Riley,’ interjected the judge.
‘I think I might’ve done.’
‘What was discussed?’
‘I can’t remember. It was a long time ago.’
‘Just give us the gist of it.’