by Nikki Attree
"Mr Smith, might I ask you: how old were you when you left school?”
Harry scratches his head and looks quite misty-eyed: “I dunno. A long time ago. I ‘spose I was about fourteen.”
"And you came from a very deprived background?"
“I dunno. I ‘spose so. It was tuff, if that’s wot you mean. Me dad buggered off and left me mum to look after five kids: me, three sisters, and me two brothers.”
LL does the arithmetic and intervenes: “that’s actually six children, Mr Smith?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about Sharon. She buggered off an all. Dunno where she went to ...” Harry tails off into silence, and gazes wistfully into the distance.
The defence barrister tries to prompt his client back on course: "you were telling us about how difficult your childhood was, Mr Smith?”
“Yeah, we was fightin each uver all the time, so I ‘ad to get ‘ard, like.”
Harry’s lawyer addresses the bench: “we will shortly be hearing from Mr Smith’s mother sir, and she will confirm that the family were indeed, to use the current terminology: ‘dysfunctional’, and that her son had no real opportunity of a decent education.”
He turns back to Harry: “so Mr Smith, you had no chance to complete your education, and in fact find it difficult to read and write?"
Harry bristles: "you tryin to say I’m thick, mate?” he says to his lawyer belligerently.
"No, not at all Mr Smith. I am on your side, remember?” Harry scowls, shrugs, and his lawyer continues: “I just want to establish that given your deprived background and lack of a proper education, you would have found it difficult to mastermind a complex crime such as this. So I put it to you that, as you yourself have pointed out, the logical assumption is that Mr Jones was wholly responsible for planning the hostage taking and negotiating with the victim, and that your role was no more than his assistant?"
Harry is nothing if not proud, and he doesn’t like the way this line of questioning is going. He does an about-face and denies his previous denial of responsibility: "look mate, I ‘aint nobody’s poodle! Got that, you feckin poncey git?”
Harry’s lawyer shakes his head wearily and once again attempts to explain what he’s trying to establish, but his client won’t have any of it, and ends up having a full scale shouting match with his lawyer. In the end LL is forced to intervene. He orders the uniformed constable to escort the witness back to the dock. He’s seen enough of the defendant to have a pretty good idea of his character, and his likely role in the alleged crime.
In desperation, the defence calls Pauline Smith to the witness stand, hoping that she’ll have a good word to say about her son. There’s a general murmur of excitement as she rises to her feet, revealing the bottom half of her outfit. Lord Longbottom frowns his disapproval. Seated in the dock she looked a pillar of mature respectability, but the sober matron becomes the granny from hell from the waist down, in her miniskirt and leopardskin leggings.
The defence barrister explains to her that this is her chance to act as a character witness for Harry, and he starts by asking her to confirm her son’s description of their family as ‘dysfunctional’. Pauline answers by saying that yes, that’s right, they functioned mainly by dissing everyone else on their estate.
The defence barrister sighs. "So, moving on Mrs Smith: what can you tell us about your son's character?"
Pauline: "he’s a thievin scumbag!”
Cue the familiar laughter / gavel / umpire’s pleas for silence routine.
The defence barrister tries again to put the appropriate words into her mouth: “but I believe that he has been a good son to you - diligently looking after you in your old age?”
"Not really. The scumbag wasn’t even gonna give me a fair share of the ...”
The defence barrister interrupts, before she can incriminate herself: "if you’ll just allow me to stop you there and explain, once again, that this is your chance to say a few words in your son’s mitigation. So given that, might I ask you again: can you please tell the court about your son’s good character ...”
There’s a long pause while Pauline considers this. Finally she replies: "he’s a thievin scumbag - but he’s a good one!”
The gallery erupts once again. The defence barrister sighs exasperatedly and looks at LL, who shrugs and smashes his gavel repeatedly on the desk. The umpire calls for silence, and the defence barrister sits down, a defeated man.
The prosecutor rises to his feet. “I have just a few questions for the good lady if I may, m’lord ...” LL nods. The prosecutor addresses Pauline: “so Mrs Smith, you were about to tell us about your role in this criminal operation?”
Pauline looks confused. "Was I? I thought I was tellin you lot about ‘Arry bein a thievin bar-steward. Now I don't know why I am up ‘ere. I ‘aint done nuffin wrong.”
LL clears his throat and intervenes: “ahem, may I remind you, Mrs Smith, that you told the court that you are pleading guilty as charged.”
The prosecutor thanks the magistrate for pointing this out to the witness. "Let’s cut to the chase, Mrs Smith. Did you, or did you not, deliver the ransom notes to Mrs Parker-Smyth’s house in Hampstead, on behalf of your son and Mr Jones?”
Before she can answer LL intervenes again, to remind Pauline that:
•she is under oath;
•perjury is a very serious offense;
•she should be aware that there is CCTV camera evidence of her delivering the notes, albeit dressed in a bizarre ‘disguise’.
Pauline considers these bullet points, decides that the game’s up and that it’s time to visit her “ome from ome” again, but that she’d prefer to limit the duration of her stay. "Alright. It’s a fair cop. Yes, I posted them envelopes, but I didn’t do no dog nappin.”
Prosecutor: "and were you aware of the contents of the envelopes?”
“Well I ‘ad to open em, didn’ I? To find out ‘ow much the theivin sods were gettin, like.”
"Thank you, Mrs Smith” the prosecutor says, with a smug smile. “I have no further questions for the witness, sir” he announces to the bench, and sits down.
Robert whispers to his sister: “second set to the prosecution”.
* * *
Jack is called to the stand and sworn in. The prosecuting barrister has the first go at him: “now then, Mr Jones, you have very sensibly decided to plead guilty rather than waste the court’s time, so perhaps you can just tell us, in your own words, how you and Mr Smith carried out this crime.”
Speaking clearly and concisely, Jack describes the meticulous planning that went into the operation; how easy it was to break into Wags hotel; how surprised they were to find two identical dogs; how he communicated with Elizabeth, using Pauline as the courier. He takes the story up to the point where Elizabeth surprised him by replying to the second ransom note, ordering him to do what she wanted.
At this point the prosecutor intervenes and asks Jack to skip that bit, and instead to jump ahead and talk about the circumstances of the hostage exchange and their arrest in the ‘Sleep-A-Lot’ car-park. He (the prosecutor) knows that the defence barrister will be certain to ask Jack all about his collusion with Elizabeth, as it’s an important mitigating factor in his defence.
Jack is sobbing gently now, as he describes the denouement at the bedding factory. He tells the court how reluctant he was to say goodbye to the dogs and return them to someone whom he considered to be woefully inadequate as a canine carer. He tells them how he wasn’t surprised to see the police, and how he knew then that the game was up. Tears roll down his face as he admits that he was similarly not surprised to see Annie at the scene. The private detective looking for the dogs was also, tragically, the same woman that he’d fallen in love with. Looking straight at her, he confesses that what he regrets most is meeting this wonderful lady, and then ruining it by lying to her.
Sitting in the gallery, next to her brother, Annie is moved by Jack’s confession, and yet more angry than ever that this chance of
a fresh start has been so cruelly snatched away from her. “We could have been good together, me and you” she thinks to herself, as she too weeps tears of regret for their vanishing future.
The prosecutor asks Jack about his fight with Harry, prior to them both being arrested. The Lad replies that he was expecting Harry’s fury when he gave himself up. He ends by telling the court that strange as it may sound, he almost wanted to be caught, because meeting Annie had shown him that there might be a better way to live.
His confession is received in rapt silence, except in the dock, where Harry has to be restrained from shouting abuse and threats. When Jack finishes speaking there’s an audible sigh of regret from the public, and some of the females in the gallery are in tears.
The prosecutor thanks Jack for his honesty, announces that he has no more questions, and sits down. Lord Longbottom turns thoughtfully to the defence barrister and invites him to put his questions to the witness. He (LL) has been impressed by the way that this likable young man has carried himself, and he finds himself hoping that there will be mitigating circumstances to take into account when it comes to sentencing him.
The defence barrister rises to his feet and approaches the witness with considerably more enthusiasm than he had for his other two clients. This time he has something to work with, and he’s hopeful than he can achieve a more positive outcome. He starts by encouraging Jack to continue the theme of remorse, which seems to be playing well with both the gallery and, hopefully, the magistrate.
"So Mr Jones, this is your chance to apologise for the distress that you’ve caused ...”
“Yes, of course. I’m truly sorry for what I put Gizmo’s and Doodle’s owners through, and in particular for the pain I caused Miranda. It must have been awful for her, thinking that her pooch was being tortured. It’s no excuse, but I only ever pretended to harm the dogs. Actually, I looked after them as if they were my own. The only good thing that might have come out of all this is that now I realise how much I care about animals, particularly dogs. It might just give me the chance of a new direction in my life.”
Everyone (except Harry, of course) is again moved by Jack’s speech. Annie and Miranda are in tears, along with a sizable section of the gallery, and even the hardened legal professionals have a lump in their throats. Well, nearly everyone. Harry is even more incensed than ever, obviously, but less obviously, Elizabeth is far from moved. She sits there, again fiddling with her phone, angry at the lack of a significant media presence, and wondering when on earth she can escape outside to speak to those few that have bothered to turn up. Ironically, she is just about to be involved in proceedings again, but probably not in the way she’d have chosen.
The defence barrister asks Jack to tell the court what he told the police about Elizabeth’s involvement. The Lad explains how she’d blackmailed him into collaborating with her to prolong the hostage situation, in order to generate more publicity for the film, adding that he kept copies of everything as proof.
"So Mr Jones, you were actually working with Mrs Parker-Smyth all along, and the dog napping was really nothing more than a publicity stunt organised by her?”
The prosecutor jumps to his feet to object: “my learned friend is leading the witness, sir. Putting words in his mouth, hoping to avoid his responsibility for this callous crime.”
LL considers this. “Objection sustained. I think at this point we need to hear from Mrs Parker-Smyth again, and get to the bottom of these allegations. Thank you Mr Jones. You may step down now.”
Robert whispers to his sister: “I think the defence won that set. It’s two sets to one now. Exciting match eh?” Annie is lost in her thoughts, and says nothing.
* * *
JC calls Elizabeth to return to the witness stand, but she’s not been listening. She’s sitting at the back of the room with her Bluetooth earpiece on, deep in conversation with the only reporter still left outside. He’s just told her that he’ll have to make a move unless she can do an interview in the next few minutes. She’s told him to hang on, and she’s about to slip out of the door, when she suddenly realises that all eyes are on her. The uniformed constable takes her by the arm, and politely but firmly escorts her back to the witness stand.
Once again she insists on having the first word: “look, I said everything that needed to be said the first time around” she says testily, to the magistrate. “Now, I really must speak to the press before they all go and ...”
Lord Longbottom interrupts her: “please be quiet Mrs Parker-Smyth. Firstly, I must remind you that you are still under oath, and secondly, in the light of these new allegations, it is far from clear that you did tell us ‘everything that needed to be said’ as you put it.”
Both the prosecutor and the defence barrister get to their feet eagerly, relishing crossing swords with this obnoxiously arrogant woman. Elizabeth starts to splutter an angry interjection, but LL ignores her. “You were originally called as a witness for the prosecution. Indeed as the victim, no less. But now the defence have alleged that you were yourself implicated in this crime. This alters your status, and in fact makes it rather unique. You are both a witness for the prosecution, and the defence ... or perhaps, neither ...” he says thoughtfully, tailing off into a legal reverie.
Regathering his thoughts before Elizabeth can poke her spoke in, he continues to address her: “anyway, no matter. The important thing is that we get to the truth. Since you are appearing for both the prosecution, and the defence, or neither, then I shall myself conduct the cross-examination.” He looks sternly at the two barristers, and they sit down meekly.
“So, Mrs Parker-Smyth, I gather that you were in the process of making a film with these dogs, when they disappeared?”
“That’s correct. It’s called: ‘Nobody’s Poodle’, and it’s a wonderful story about a loveable ex-pat pooch living in Tenerife ...”
Elizabeth has cheered up considerably now, given the chance to talk about the film, but LL again interrupts her in full flow: “and I presume you would say that this project is quite important to you?”
"Well yes, of course it is!” Elizabeth replies, incredulous that anyone could think otherwise. “It’s my work, my career ...”
LL once again interrupts her flow: "so important that you could put your own, and your author’s dogs, in jeopardy?"
“I don’t know what you’re getting at” Elizabeth replies, indignantly. “I was not responsible for dognapping Gizmo and Doodle and holding them hostage, if that’s what you mean ..."
“Yes, well that is, in fact, exactly what we are trying to establish here. So, cutting to the chase, as I believe they say in the moving pictures, I would like you to examine this handwritten note ...” He nods to JC, who hands exhibit A to the witness. “So, Mrs Parker-Smyth, is this your handwriting?”
Elizabeth stares at the note, trying to think of something to say.
“Before you answer my question, Mrs Parker-Smyth, I’m sure that I don’t have to remind you that you are still under oath, and that the consequences of committing perjury would be serious. So, I put it to you again: did you, or did you not, write this note?”
Elizabeth looks from the note to her daughter, sat next to Annie in the gallery. Miranda stares anxiously back at her mother. Elizabeth weighs up the chances of lying her way out of it, but on balance it seems unlikely to succeed. Mother and daughter stare at each other, locked in a tussle of trust and will. Elizabeth looks away, shrugs, and admits in a somewhat less confident tone, that yes, she did write the note, but that ...
LL again interrupts her: “thank you. Would you be so kind as to read exhibit A out aloud to the court please.”
Elizabeth reluctantly begins to read the note, but in the voice of a scared midget with laryngitis. LL orders her to speak up: “when I asked you to read it aloud, I meant exactly that. Now if you could please just use the same volume that you have been using to harangue this court, then we’ll all be able to hear exactly what you wrote to Mr Jones.”
>
Elizabeth shrugs a defiant shrug, and reads the note aloud, declaiming it as if she’s playing the lead in a Shakespearean production. She gets to the bit about needing photos of the dogs: ‘Make it look like you are hurting them, but don’t harm them. Put some fake blood on Gizmo, not on Doodle or my daughter will be upset ...’
There’s a gasp from the gallery. Miranda bursts into tears. Annie puts her arm around her, and leads her out of the courtroom. Elizabeth stumbles to a halt. LL orders her to finish reading out the rest of the note, revealing that instead of being coerced into paying a ransom to save her dogs, she was actually paying the dognappers a ten thousand pound fee for providing ‘specialist promotional services.’
This revelation also provokes something of a commotion in the courtroom. The sole reporter in the room looks up from scribbling a silly cartoon of Pauline (rather than the sensible likeness that he’s supposed to be supplying), and furiously starts texting his boss, telling him about Elizabeth’s confession. Within minutes of the news leaking out, the dwindling media presence outside the court is back to full strength, with journalists eager to get a scoop, and paparazzi vying to get the best spot for a close up of her.
JC restores order in the usual way, and once everybody settles back down, LL tells Elizabeth that she can step down, but again to remain in court and wait for his deliberations concerning her behaviour. He warns her to expect some kind of punitive repercussion.
Robert whispers to his sister: “I reckon that was fairly even, don’t you? Or maybe the defence just shaded it on a tie-break. It’s all down to the magistrate now, to decide the final set eh?” Annie again says nothing. She has more important things on her mind, and quite frankly her brother’s relentless tennis analogy is getting a bit annoying.
* * *
