by Olly Jarvis
‘My chambers? What about Huntsman?’
‘All busy, and anyway, before we booked McDonald, Bob said Century Buildings wouldn’t take it out of respect for you.’
‘Lara,’ said Jack in his sternest voice. ‘Even if you could find someone, they’d want time to read the brief. It’s going to have to go off.’
Lara shook her head. ‘The court can’t do it for four months.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘It needs sorting now. Smart should be in hospital. He needs to be sentenced.’ Lara sighed. ‘For the families on both sides.’
He understood.
‘You should see the state of Natasha’s mother – comes to every hearing. She needs this to be heard today.’
Jack sympathized. ‘What can you do?’
She gazed at Jack with her emerald eyes.
‘No!’ he instinctively got up.
Lara did the same. ‘Jack, you’re available, you’ve read the brief, you know the case. Smart would want you.’
‘No,’ Jack insisted again. ‘I’ve only read a bail application.’
‘It’s not a proper trial, there’s no case to put, you can prep it in ten minutes, you know that.’
Feeling trapped, Jack took a few deep breaths. ‘Lara, you know I can’t do this case, it’s just not in me. If it were any other…’
Lara cupped Jack’s cheek with her fingers. ‘You can. We can. When are you going to start believing in yourself?’
Her touch softened his resistance. ‘The mother blames me – she’d go mad if I was back on board.’
‘You’d be doing her a favour. It’s either you or an adjournment. To be honest,’ she said, ‘I need this over with, too. I can’t stand being in the same court as that pair of bastards.’
It took Jack a moment to realize she meant Katterman and the judge. How had he failed to see how hard it must be for her?
‘Please, Jack?’
Almost out the door, looking forward to a rest, and now this. A hopeless case, tried in front of Lara’s ex-boyfriend, and prosecuted by Katterman, with Smart’s mother watching on. Jack shuddered. But Lara was right, the trial would be adjourned if he didn’t step up, prolonging the agony for everyone. How would Smart’s mother cope? Had the Lauren Riley thing taught him anything? He wouldn’t be so lucky a second time. He put his hands on his head. ‘I need to think.’
‘There’s no time, I’ve got to go back in.’
Jack’s mind raced, remembering Mrs Simpson’s disdain. ‘I’m sorry, Lara.’ He couldn’t look at her.
‘It’s fine,’ she said softly. ‘I understand.’
‘I don’t know if I could handle it.’
‘I know. I’d better get back.’
Jack watched her make her way towards the staircase that curved up to the courtrooms. He thought about the last time she’d needed him, during Katterman’s trial. He hadn’t been there then, either, too wrapped up in his own problems. He couldn’t let her down again. He owed her. ‘Wait!’
She stopped and turned.
He couldn’t say no to her, whatever the cost. He had to face his demons. ‘All right, I’ll do it.’
Lara’s face lit up. She ran over and wrapped her hands around his neck, then planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you.’
Jack’s joy soon subsided – he knew this trial could break him.
Chapter 76
Lara handed Jack the file as they went up to court. ‘This will have to do for now, deps and exhibits.’
Jack saw everyone waiting outside court. Joyce Simpson was the first to notice him. She gave a contemptuous stare as he passed, then shook her head at the other family members. The tall figure of Lionel Katterman QC came into view, saying something to Barry Smith and laughing.
‘Barry,’ said Jack to the prosecution junior, ‘I’m taking over from McDonald.’
‘You sure, mate?’
‘Someone’s got to do it.’
‘This should be fun,’ Katterman muttered under his breath as they went into the courtroom.
‘All rise!’
His Honour Judge Finlay came in and rolled his eyes on seeing Jack fidgeting on counsel’s row.
Led by a prison officer, a handcuffed Timothy Smart shuffled into the dock, oblivious to what was going on around him.
‘Your Honour…’ Jack began, noticing the number of journalists in the press gallery.
The judge looked past Jack to his instructing solicitor. Lara avoided eye contact. ‘Any joy, Miss Panassai?’
‘Your Honour,’ Jack repeated. ‘I have been asked to step in for Mr McDonald, who as you know is unable to attend due to ill health.’ Jack was distracted momentarily by low mumblings from the gallery – Joyce Simpson and her party.
‘Asked by whom?’ Finlay replied, his voice full of condescension.
‘Err, Dobkin & Co, Your Honour.’
The judge harrumphed. ‘It’s not that simple, though, is it?’
Jack didn’t understand.
‘It’s Mr Kowski, isn’t it?’
‘Kowalski, Your Honour.’
‘Well, Mr Kowalski, the defendant was unfit to plead, so really you should be appointed by the court, since he can’t choose counsel for himself.’
‘Yes, Your Honour,’ agreed Jack, realizing the judge had decided to humiliate him.
Finlay was old school. For him, it was all about being in the club – the inner circle of Manchester’s legal profession. Many young advocates would creep up to him in the hope of winning his patronage. The son of Polish immigrants definitely wasn’t one of them. Jack couldn’t imagine Lara being with such an arrogant individual. The thought of them together made him angry.
‘I need to be satisfied that you have the competence to defend such a case. It’s a multiple murder allegation, after all.’
Jack was going to have to argue his way into a trial he didn’t actually want. ‘I have some knowledge of the case, having done the bail application, Your Honour.’
‘That’s not what I meant. You haven’t done many cases in the Crown court, have you?’
Katterman tittered.
‘The solicitors have asked me to act, Your Honour,’ Jack replied. ‘But if Your Honour would rather choose his own advocate, that’s a matter for you.’
Finlay did a double take. ‘What are you trying to say, Mr Kowalski?’
‘Nothing, Your Honour.’
The appearance of fairness was everything to a judge trying his first murder. ‘Well, if Dobkin and Company have requested you, then—’ He thought on it for a moment. ‘Mr Katterman, any observations?’
The weaselly silk stood up: ‘The issue is very straightforward, Your Honour – did the defendant do the act? Mr Kowalski should be able to manage that.’ Katterman leaned across to his opponent: ‘I wouldn’t miss this for the world, dear boy.’
Jack ignored him.
‘Very well,’ said Finlay. ‘Can we swear a jury now?’
‘Your Honour, I need time to remind myself of the case and look at the papers that have been served since the bail application.’
Finlay’s patience was being tested. ‘How long do you need?’
‘Until tomorrow?’
The judge pondered, then: ‘No witnesses until tomorrow, but we will swear the jury now and hear Mr Katterman’s opening.’
‘That doesn’t give me much time to prepare, Your Honour,’ Jack protested. ‘I haven’t even met the defendant yet.’
‘This is not a conventional trial, Mr Kowalski. You’re only testing the evidence, not putting forward a case, so he can’t give you instructions. You do understand that?’
‘Of course,’ Jack replied, offended by the question. Further objection seemed pointless.
‘Usher, bring in the jury panel,’ Finlay said again, eyeballing Jack.
Once twelve jurors had been through the nerve-wracking process of swearing their oaths in front of a packed courtroom, the judge gave them a few preliminary warnings about potential prison s
entences for any juror stupid enough to Google the case or discuss it with anyone outside their number.
Then it was time for Katterman to take centre stage. He began by changing the atmosphere. ‘Members of the jury, the defendant faces a single count of murder. It is alleged that he murdered his estranged wife by pouring petrol over her and setting her alight.’
The jurors reeled back in horror.
Sobs from the gallery.
‘The defendant has already been found what we lawyers call “unfit to plead”. That means he’s so unwell mentally that he can’t put up a defence; he can’t give instructions to his lawyers. For that reason, your task is simply to decide whether the defendant did the act of killing his wife. Whether he had the requisite intent to commit murder is neither here nor there. You only need to decide, did he do the physical act.’ Katterman moved on to summarize the evidence against Smart.
Jack listened intently. The prosecution case was founded on the eyewitness accounts of Timothy’s Smart’s own friends and family. How was he supposed to test this evidence? The priest had seen Smart and his car at the scene, and his parents had seen him arrive at their house a short time later. It all fitted. Fortunately for the defence case, the prosecution could not proceed on the rape allegation with a dead complainant, so the jury wouldn’t hear Natasha Smart’s testimony or the damning DNA evidence. Still, it was confirmation for Jack, if any were needed, that Timothy Smart was a monster – sick or not.
Chapter 77
It was one o’clock by the time Katterman finished his opening. As promised, Finlay adjourned for the rest of the day.
‘What do you want to do first?’ Lara asked.
‘See the client,’ said Jack. ‘I know it serves no purpose, but it doesn’t feel right to ignore him.’
‘OK, but I’m warning you, he’s worse than ever.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jack asked as they walked out onto the concourse, past the press busy preparing copy for their editors.
‘At first, he kinda knew we were there, but now it’s like he’s totally disconnected from the world around him.’
‘So you think the illness is genuine now?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘One thing I’ve learnt from Nowak’s case and from Dixon’s is—’ he stopped.
Lara turned around to see what had distracted him.
Joyce Simpson and her family were crowding around a copy of the Manchester Evening News, staring over at Jack in disgust.
‘What are they reading?’ Lara asked.
‘This,’ said Jim Smith, handing them a copy, folded at the relevant page.
A photo of Jack and the headline: DEFENCE BARRISTER SAVES RAPE VICTIM FROM SUICIDE BID.
Horrified, Jack read the article.
Lara was the first to attack its author. ‘How could you, Jim?’
‘It’s news,’ he replied, without embarrassment. ‘I like you, Jack – I’ve always helped you when you’ve asked – but no one is immune from press scrutiny. It goes with the job.’
‘And what about Lauren?’ Jack seethed.
‘She’s got lifelong anonymity. I never gave her name.’
‘But you’ve made out like it was Jack that made her want to jump,’ said Lara.
‘Wasn’t it?’
‘No, Jim, it was because she’d been raped.’
‘And Jack got the guy off.’
Jim was right on all counts. That was what hurt. ‘Come on, Lara,’ said Jack, taking her by the arm, sensing she wanted to say more. ‘No hard feelings, Jim. We all have our jobs to do.’
‘However dirty,’ Jim replied.
They understood each other.
Chapter 78
‘What were you going to say before?’ asked Lara as they waited for Smart to be brought into the visiting room.
‘When?’
‘Upstairs, something you’ve learned?’
Jack remembered. ‘Just that I judged the cases before they were over. It’s dangerous to try and guess who’s innocent and who’s guilty. I made assumptions about Dixon and Nowak. I was wrong about them both.’
‘So what’s your point?’
‘You have to work on the basis that the unconvicted are always innocent unless proved otherwise. It’s the only way to defend, treat every case the same.’
‘Obviously,’ Lara replied.
‘Same goes for Smart. No going through the motions, we test everything.’
‘Of course,’ she replied, ‘but it won’t win you any friends in court.’
A prison officer brought Smart in and undid the cuffs. Smart remained standing, staring into space, until the officer pushed him down onto the chair and left him alone with his legal team. Unkempt and with a full beard, he sat motionless, seemingly unaware of their presence.
‘Hello, Mr Smart?’ Lara began, searching his face for a flicker of recognition. ‘This is Jack Kowalski, he’s defending you now.’
No response.
‘He got you bail, remember?’
Still nothing.
Jack couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man, even knowing what he’d done. ‘I know we can’t act on any instructions from you, Mr Smart, but is there anything you want to say, or tell me?’
Smart’s gaze remained fixed.
‘Do you remember the note you sent me?’ Jack opened his wallet and unfolded the piece of paper. ‘I don’t know why I’ve kept it.’ He began to read: ‘But if you do that which is evil, be afraid…’ Jack stopped to check for any kind of connection.
Nothing.
‘Were you trying to tell me something, Mr Smart? Was it your way of asking me to take your case?’ Remembering the conversation with his father, Jack said: ‘Don’t you want to be unafraid of the one in authority?’
Suddenly, a movement of Smart’s eye, then his head, like waking from a deep sleep. He made eye contact.
The shock of it made Jack sit up.
The defendant opened his mouth. It was as if he were trying to recall how to speak. After a few seconds: ‘Then do what is right and you will have his approval.’
‘Yes!’ said Jack. ‘You finished the verse. Romans 13:3.’
Incredulous, Lara and Jack waited for the client to say more, but instead he seemed to shrink back into his shell.
‘It has to be from the Bible,’ said Jack, thinking aloud. ‘It’s the only way he can communicate.’
‘Say something else.’
Jack tried to think back to Sunday school. ‘Blessed are the meek?’
No response.
‘It’s got to be relevant,’ said Lara.
Jack dug deeper into his childhood memories. A verse popped into his head from some distant place. ‘I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land.’
Smart focused on Jack.
‘He can hear you,’ Lara gasped. ‘Go on.’
Jack tried to remember how the verse ended. ‘I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.’
Smart reached out and took Jack’s hand between his own. Tears streamed down his cheeks. ‘The Lord is in this place and I was not aware of it.’
Jack felt uplifted. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’
But as quickly as he had awoken, the defendant slipped back into his world.
‘Mr Smart?’
The connection was lost.
Chapter 79
‘I need to know more about him,’ said Jack as they left the cells.
‘I know it’s frustrating,’ Lara replied, ‘but what’s the point? He can’t give instructions. Shouldn’t we focus on testing the witnesses?’
‘We will – but if there’s a door to unlock here, he’s the key.’
Lara had worked with Jack long enough to know when his mind was made up.
‘The defence psychiatrists who said he was unfit to plead, where are they based?’
‘One’s from London, the other is on The Wirral, Doctor Iqbal.’ She paused. ‘I t
hink he also has a private surgery on St John Street.’
‘I want to see him.’
Lara was already searching for his contact details.
Jack paced up and down. It was his first opportunity to consider what he’d got himself into. Adrenaline was pumping through his body.
‘He’s got a surgery there today but he’ll be booked up for months.’
‘Ring anyway.’
After a brief conversation with the receptionist, Lara said: ‘He’s too busy.’
‘Sod that,’ Jack replied. ‘Let’s go round there.’
Jack checked his watch as they walked across Spinningfields. He still needed to read the brief.
They crossed Quay Street and turned into St John Street, home to several barristers’ chambers and private doctors.
They walked into a plush waiting area with a few empty chairs and a receptionist sitting at a desk.
‘I’m afraid we don’t have an appointment,’ said Lara, ‘but we need to see Doctor Iqbal about a patient, Timothy Smart.’
‘Who are you?’ replied the plump, middle-aged secretary over her half-moon spectacles.
‘Mr Smart’s lawyers. I rang earlier,’ Lara explained.
‘I already told you,’ the woman replied, ‘he’s booked up.’
Jack lost his temper at the curt response. ‘There is a man on trial right now for murder.’ He leaned over her desk. ‘Doctor Iqbal prepared a report and got paid by the legal aid fund, and now I want to ask him about it. Do you understand?’
The woman stood up. ‘And I’ve told you, he’s busy today. Do you understand?’
‘No problem,’ Lara replied, pulling Jack’s arm before he completely lost it.
Smug with victory, the secretary retook her seat and swiveled in the direction of the exit. ‘Goodbye.’
‘You’d better tell the doctor that you left us no choice,’ said Lara, holding the door open for Jack.
Unable to let the comment go, the receptionist said: ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well,’ Lara explained, ‘we could have had a five minute chat, but now we’ll have to get a witness summons. He’ll probably be at court all day tomorrow.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jack, cottoning on to Lara’s ploy. ‘Just waiting to get on.’
