The Aladdin Trial

by Abi Silver

  ‘Dr Lewis. Is that convenient for you?’

  ‘Yes, your honour. I have another engagement at five but otherwise I am happy to assist.’

  * * *

  Over the lunchtime break Judith communicated with Chambers and the judge that she wanted to recall Dr Wolf, but he had a full schedule of operations that afternoon, and would not be free till the following day. Chambers confirmed he did not wish to recall Dr Lewis, meaning that it was now the defence’s turn to put forward their evidence.

  ‘Miss Burton. You don’t appear to have many witnesses. Am I wrong?’ the judge asked blandly.

  ‘Your honour. Apart from Dr Wolf’s re-examination, I have Dr Atkins, the consultant psychiatrist, and the defendant. I propose to call Dr Atkins next. But only if your honour will permit me to bring in Dr Wolf tomorrow when he is available. That may mean my client’s evidence being interrupted to interpose Dr Wolf.’

  ‘That’s a bit irregular,’ Andy Chambers chimed in.

  ‘I should prefer Miss Burton to complete the cross-examination of Dr Wolf now, too, but we should not interfere with Dr Wolf’s operating schedule for a second day and it would be unsatisfactory to waste court time. Go ahead Miss Burton. We’ll hear from Dr Atkins, then your client, and interpose Dr Wolf when you can.’

  * * *

  Brian Bateman was also busy that lunchtime. He had relinquished his place in court for an hour or so to stand a safe distance away from the Mill Hill BMW garage over which Joe Hennessy presided. He saw three men arrive in a black Audi and march in. He waited for the shouting.

  On his way there, he posted a carefully worded letter addressed to Indis insurance company. In it, he described the wide range of physical activities he had seen Peter Jones performing recently, without any apparent discomfort, including carrying his mother-in-law’s coffin and digging the earth around his mother-in-law’s grave. He did feel a momentary pang of guilt about ruining things for Tracy, but then he fortified himself by the memory of how she had urged him to forgive her errant brother, despite his obvious deception. And the impression she had given of her mother when she gave her evidence yesterday, of some confused and dependent old woman, was demeaning to Barbara’s memory.

  49

  Dr Atkins had made it clear to Judith that his giving evidence at the trial would be conditional on the video of Ahmad’s ‘episode’ at the railway station being shown in full before he spoke. Judith and Constance had discussed this at some length; the film was awful, for a start. Ahmad appeared to go into a trance, and at various stages he quivered, muttered, stamped and clenched and unclenched his fists. It was not easy watching and, at best, it made Ahmad appear strange and confused.

  ‘My duty is to the court,’ Dr Atkins had pontificated, ‘not to your client. But his behaviour is not extreme and is easily explicable. And if you don’t show the whole of the film, your opponent will.’

  Judith accepted that the latter was a valid point. They would not be able to stop the video being shown; why on earth had Ahmad chosen such a public place for his show of emotion? And better to be open about it, than allow the inference to be drawn that he had something to hide. Even so, when blown up large on the screens in the courtroom, it made for uncomfortable viewing.

  ‘Dr Atkins. Given your extensive experience as a psychiatrist specialising in trauma, can you tell the court your observations when you watch the video we have just seen, please?’ Judith began slowly.

  ‘Yes, thank you. I see Ahmad Qabbani step off the train at 5:52pm. I note he appears distracted, he walks stiffly, checks around him as if he is disorientated and then, when he sits down on the bench, it’s as if he finds it there for the first time. So my first conclusion – tentative – is that whatever is going on in Mr Qabbani’s mind, the process has begun on the train. Something is bothering him before he pulls in to his home station. He is sufficiently in control to recognise his station, exit the train, but then he becomes confused, overwhelmed by other thoughts – most likely traumatic memories – and his vision of what is actually going on outside recedes.’

  ‘You mean he starts to see a memory and not what is actually around him?’

  ‘Yes. Then, at first, he sits very still on the bench. This is common in a person who is starting to regress, to go back to that memory. He is allowing himself to be immersed in the memory.’

  ‘What do you mean by “allowing himself”?’

  ‘People who have suffered trauma in the past, sometimes they can’t prevent the thoughts coming into their head but sometimes they can. It’s rather like if you have a very sweet tooth and you stand in front of a kiosk selling chocolate. You can tell yourself that you don’t like chocolate, you don’t need it, you shouldn’t have it, or you can just allow the craving to take over – you don’t fight it, you succumb.’

  ‘So Ahmad succumbs to a traumatic memory and becomes very still?’

  ‘Yes. The first stage is the stillness, and if you note, he’s not just still, his whole body stiffens, becomes rigid; he’s like a statue. Then we see his lips move and hear a sound. I understand the police tried very hard to work out what he was saying by slowing things down, but they came up only with the sound ‘Sh’ or ‘Sha’.’

  ‘Could it be his wife’s name, Aisha?’

  Ahmad inhaled loudly on hearing his wife’s name being called out.

  ‘It could be, yes,’ Dr Atkins continued. ‘Then we see Ahmad stamp his feet, apparently with some difficulty, the feet appear heavy, he moves his fingers, then his hands, then his arms and finally he loosens up his shoulders and neck.’

  ‘And what is happening there, in your expert opinion?’

  ‘It is hard to say but I believe he has made a conscious decision to extract himself from the memory, or it is beginning to fade. Either way, he is returning to the present, and his movements are to stimulate himself to start to move and to begin to live in the present again.’

  ‘What would be happening to Ahmad, physiologically, during this time?’

  ‘Interestingly, although he appears still, his pulse is likely to be racing. He would be feeling panicky, the kind of feeling you get in a time of extreme anxiety. We can’t see from the film but he would probably perspire and this episode was relatively short. If it had continued, we might have seen his body start to shake.’

  ‘Dr Atkins. This behaviour appears strange, even frightening to some people. Should we be scared?’

  ‘Not necessarily. I have seen many patients who have suffered, and who experience these kinds of episodes from time to time. I don’t often have the opportunity of watching them on camera, but what we see here is usually just what they describe. It’s fairly normal for someone with PTSD.’

  ‘In your opinion, does this behaviour mean that my client is dangerous in any way?’

  ‘No. The fact that he has suffered this episode, in itself, is not an indication that he is a dangerous person.’

  Andy Chambers raised his left eyebrow in Judith’s direction as he prepared to cross-examine Dr Atkins. Judith linked her fingers beneath her gown and told herself that, however badly the next half an hour went, things could still be resurrected.

  ‘Dr Atkins. How many patients with PTSD have you examined?’ Chambers asked.

  ‘Probably around a hundred and fifty.’

  ‘You visit soldiers in the main?’

  ‘Yes I do, those still serving and those who have been released because of PTSD or similar. I do also see some civilians.’

  ‘I’ve heard your evidence that having these kind of flashbacks does not necessarily make a person dangerous but isn’t it often the case that the very reason people have these horrific memories is because they have been exposed to awful, terrible things?’

  ‘That is generalising; for some people a single life event, the death of a parent, for example, can prove as a catalyst, for others, it might be months of livin
g in a war zone. But, essentially, yes.’

  ‘So the person suffering from PTSD is necessarily hardened to horrible events, has probably witnessed a lot of death and suffering?’

  ‘I would say possibly rather than probably.’

  ‘And when a person gets hardened to horrible events, they start to lose perspective and find it hard to know what is right and what is wrong?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘And rather than the memories express themselves in the way we saw with the defendant on this occasion, where he was wrapped up in his thoughts, can sufferers strike out at other people?’

  ‘Again, it can happen.’

  ‘What brings on these episodes?’

  ‘Usually, there’s a trigger. So, the sufferer is reminded by a noise or a smell or a flash of light of whatever the traumatic event was. Alternatively, simply being under pressure, more generally, being anxious for an unconnected reason can light the fuse.’

  ‘Would throwing someone off a building be a potential trigger for an episode like this?’

  ‘Objection, your honour.’ Judith was pink with indignation. ‘How can Dr Atkins possibly answer that question?’

  ‘I don’t agree, Ms Burton,’ Judge Seymour interrupted. ‘That’s just the question he needs to answer. Dr Atkins?’

  Dr Atkins stared at Ahmad who raised his head slowly, his eyes large and mournful.

  ‘I need to answer this question carefully, as I appreciate its significance,’ he began. ‘Yes, a violent, physical act, like the one you describe, could trigger this kind of episode. However, lots of other activities or activators – as I said, familiar smells, sounds – could have the same impact. Or the stress of being questioned by the police.’

  ‘How often do sufferers have these flashbacks?’

  ‘It varies from person to person. I can’t generalise.’

  ‘You asked the defendant about this?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He said he had no memory of it happening or of what the trigger was, which is quite normal, I have to say.’

  ‘In your opinion, is the defendant suffering from PTSD?’

  Dr Atkins laughed amiably. ‘Normally, I could answer that question with confidence, as I would know what trauma the patient had suffered. He or she would be willing to tell me or we would try a route like hypnosis to find the underlying cause.’

  ‘But you have been unable to do this with the defendant?’

  ‘No. He refuses to talk about his previous history and he also refused to undergo hypnosis. I am not allowed to force him.’

  ‘Is it possible that the reason he refused is because this PTSD diagnosis is convenient and, in his case, there is no trauma at all? He’s worried that if you hypnotise him you’ll find that out?’

  ‘Yes. But he didn’t know anyone was watching in the station, I assume, so it would be an unusual thing to do, to fake an attack like that.’

  ‘I note you said “unusual” rather than “impossible”. A person who had read about PTSD or even been with other sufferers could mimic the symptoms?’

  ‘Yes. I suppose they could.’

  ‘And then wouldn’t it be rather convenient to say that you’ve blacked out? Mr Qabbani could say that, if he killed Mrs Hennessy, it was in this trance-like condition and that he had no memory of it.’

  Judith half rose but Judge Seymour was on the ball.

  ‘Dr Atkins you don’t have to answer that. Mr Chambers, the defendant is not pleading any kind of diminished responsibility, and you know that. If he changes his plea later on I will allow this line of questioning, but not now.’

  ‘Yes, your honour. Again, you told Ms Burton that Mr Qabbani was not necessarily a dangerous person, just because he may, if we believe this behaviour caught on video to be genuine, suffer flashbacks.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘But some people do commit crimes while in these detached states, don’t they?’

  ‘Yes, they do.’

  ‘Might Mr Qabbani, an otherwise courteous person, have committed a violent act, that is, dragged Mrs Hennessy along the corridor and flung her over the railing, while in a trance like this and had no memory of it afterwards?’

  ‘It is not impossible,’ Dr Atkins began, ‘but what I see when I watch the video is Mr Qabbani’s body become stiff and rigid. While he is reliving his experience, whatever it may be, he appears unable to move. It is only as he is revived and returns to the real world that he can move freely again.’

  Judith congratulated herself. Chambers had gone too far. The impression he had created when he conjured up an image of Ahmad being battle-hardened had been his high point. Now he had confused things by bringing forward other possibilities. Chambers knew this himself, knew he had asked one question too many. But he had more tricks up his sleeve.

  ‘Last question, Dr Atkins. We have heard that Mr Qabbani has a young daughter, aged nine. Do you think it is safe to leave his daughter in his care, given these flashbacks? Surely Social Services should be alerted immediately.’

  Ahmad sprang up in the dock and banged his fists down loudly against the wood.

  ‘No,’ he yelled angrily. ‘No one is taking my daughter away.’

  By the time Ahmad had calmed himself and sat down, Dr Atkins’ response had become irrelevant. Now Chambers smirked sideways at Judith.

  ‘No further questions, thank you.’

  50

  Ahmad Qabbani took the stand at 2:30pm, blinking heavily. His chest heaved up and down as he struggled to maintain his composure. Constance peered out from behind Judith to give him reassurance but, even so, she could see how anxious he was.

  ‘Ahmad. Your first language is not English.’

  ‘No. I speak Arabic first.’

  ‘Do you feel able to speak to this court without an interpreter?’

  ‘Yes. I understand you. I may not be able to choose my words so beautifully, but I think that you all will be able to understand me too.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Thirty-two years old.’

  ‘And you have a wife and family?’

  ‘I have a wife and daughter yes.’

  ‘And where are you from?’

  ‘From Syria.’

  ‘How long have you been in England?’

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘And why did you come to England?’

  ‘Our home was destroyed. We were lucky to escape.’

  ‘And your job is cleaning at St Marks Hospital?’

  ‘I’ve been there two years.’

  ‘Do you enjoy it?’

  ‘I like the people. I work hard.’

  ‘Tell us about Mrs Hennessy.’

  ‘I met Mrs Hennessy the first day she came in. It was a Tuesday. She had been told there might be some delay in her operation.’

  ‘And was Mrs Hennessy unhappy about that?’

  Ahmad thought back. He could see Barbara’s face vividly before him.

  ‘Hello,’ Mrs Hennessy had called out tunefully, perched on the corner of the bed, her feet dangling limply, her hair glaringly orange, a lime green shawl draped around her shoulders. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Ahmad,’ he had replied, closing the door behind him. ‘I come to clean your room.’

  ‘Well, Ahmad, you’re going to need to entertain me, I’m afraid. I can’t have my operation today and they’ve just told me that I may not have my operation tomorrow. They’re going to starve me, just in case, of course. But then I’ll have to wait and see. What do you think to all that?’

  ‘It’s not so bad here,’ he had ventured, and she had glanced left and right, taking in the limited capacity for fun presented by the sparsely furnished room.

  ‘Do y
ou know, I didn’t even bring a magazine. Thought I’d just be in and out. No time even to make a shopping list.’

  Then he had realised he was just standing there with his bucket and mop.

  ‘It looks quite clean in here,’ she had said to him. ‘Perhaps we could just have a chat instead. I mean. I wouldn’t want to keep you from another job but, I won’t tell if you won’t.’

  ‘She was cross she had to wait. She hadn’t brought anything to read,’ Ahmad told the hushed court.

  ‘That’s how The Arabian Nights ended up next to her bed?’

  Ahmad opened his mouth and closed it. That bit was also not straightforward, as Judith knew.

  ‘I’m Barbara,’ she had said next and stuck out her hand. Ahmad had never had any patient shake his hand on a first encounter; only one or two on leaving.

  ‘What does Ahmad mean?’ she had continued, tilting her head to one side.

  ‘It means “much praise”,’ Ahmad had replied.

  ‘That’s it!’ Barbara had declared excitedly, as if it had been on the tip of her tongue all along. ‘I’ll make sure I remember next time. So lovely these names with old and deep meanings. Barbara means “traveller from a foreign land” which clearly I’m not, having lived most of my life within five miles of here. And I doubt my parents had a clue about that when they christened me. There were two other Barbaras in my class at school. But that was OK. I didn’t want to be unusual, then. And later on, well I couldn’t cope with taking on a new name – you know, a stage name – as some artistes do.’

  Ahmad had agreed, although he knew nothing of celebrities adopting new names.

  ‘I’ve never been a great one for reading,’ she confessed. ‘I get bored so easily. And when I’m at home there are so many other things to do. Do you have a garden?’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  Ahmad thought of the bare scrubland at the back of his house which could pass for a garden, if only he or Aisha would tend to it.

  ‘And do you grow lots of lovely fruit and veg, or is it all flowers?’