by Peter Murphy
She looked directly at each of them in turn.
‘So, all I ask is that you tell me the unvarnished truth. I can take the truth, but I can’t take having to confront the hopelessness again.’
Ben leaned forward in his chair. He thought for some time.
‘Arianwen, there is no such thing as certainty in the law, so I would never tell any client that their case is bound to succeed. I think Barratt would agree with me there.’
‘One hundred per cent,’ Barratt said.
‘What I will say is that you have a very good chance of having your conviction overturned. The prosecution misled the court and the jury about Trevor, particularly about his role in the case, and the reason why he wasn’t present at trial. If he had been present, as a witness, we could have cross-examined him, and his evidence may well have made a difference to how the jury saw your case. That should be enough to convince the Court of Appeal, because they have to be sure that the verdict would almost certainly have been the same, even if the jury had known the truth about Trevor and even if he had given evidence. I don’t think the prosecution will be able to persuade them of that.’
She nodded.
‘Will I have to go through another trial?’
‘No. I don’t think it would be possible to re-try this case, given the false way it was presented to the jury, and the huge amount of publicity it generated. It would be difficult to find twelve people in England to sit on a jury who aren’t aware of the evidence given at your trial. I think the Court would simply quash the conviction.’
‘How does this affect Caradog and Dai Bach?’ she asked suddenly.
‘Gareth is not sure it does,’ Ben replied.
‘But why not? Surely, the prosecution lied to the jury in their case, just as they did in mine?’
‘That’s true. But it’s not as clear in your case why Trevor giving evidence would have helped them. The prosecution can point to all the other evidence against them. Remember, Caradog admitted what he did, and there was a lot of evidence against Dai Bach to suggest that he built the bomb.’
‘But if Trevor put them up to it…?’
‘If Trevor had done that, then that might make a difference. But there is nothing in his affidavit to indicate that he crossed that line.’
‘He will give evidence to the Court of Appeal,’ Barratt added, ‘so Gareth will have the chance to cross-examine him, and something may come out. If so, they may be in with a shout, but we are not counting on it.’
‘What you need to focus on,’ Ben said, ‘is your case. And, by the way, Gareth agrees with us about your case.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘I have heard what you have said about not getting your hopes up,’ Ben said, ‘but if you can let yourself do it, Jess wants you to start imagining what your life would look like if your conviction is overturned and you are a free woman.’
She shook her head.
‘I’m not sure…’
‘Only to this extent: where would you go? How would you take care of Harri? What kind of home can you make for him? Where would the money come from, and so on? Jess thinks you need to be as clear as you can about that now, so that we don’t waste any time in trying to get Harri back for you when the conviction is overturned. You will need to satisfy the local authority, or a judge, that you have a safe and stable home ready for him to come to. Don’t worry for now about where Trevor fits into the picture, if he fits in at all. But she would like you to have an idea of what kind of life you could make for yourself and Harri.’
‘I haven’t dared to let myself think about anything like that,’ she replied. ‘I will try, but I can’t promise. I feel too fragile to imagine too much, and I’m afraid of jinxing the appeal.’
‘I understand,’ Ben replied. ‘Just think about the basics. Even that will help.’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘How long will it take for the appeal to be heard?’
‘We have the paperwork ready,’ Ben replied. ‘We will ask the Court of Appeal to expedite it, and it is a high-profile case, so I would hope they would list it within a month to six weeks, depending on how busy they are. That’s all I can say for now. Barratt will let you know as soon as we hear anything.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you both, very much.’
81
Tuesday 26 May 1970
‘Gareth, Ben, please come in. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?’
Ben nodded their thanks to the junior clerk who had shown them into Evan Roberts’ room in Chambers. He and Gareth sat down in the two formidable armchairs in front of Roberts’ desk. The armchairs were covered in a dark red leather. The room was formally furnished throughout, with solid dark wood bookcases, old fashioned standing lamps with long, dark grey shades, and thick rugs with only the suggestion of a red border to offset their austere grey fabric. The whole room exuded a confidence in the occupant’s exalted place in the legal world.
‘No, thank you, Evan.’
Evan sat back in his chair expectantly.
‘To business, then. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’
As always, Ben found the man’s formal politeness with the merest veneer of charm thoroughly irritating, but he did his best to remain calm. He had agreed that Gareth would do most of the talking. As a Silk, he more than matched Evan Roberts in stature and experience, and that was important to what they had to say.
‘Well, it’s a courtesy visit really, Evan,’ Gareth began. ‘You will receive the papers from the Director’s office in a day or two, I’m sure. But Ben and I wanted you to hear this from us without delay. We have filed appeals against conviction on behalf of Arianwen Hughes and Dafydd Prosser, together with an application that the Court of Appeal should hear some new evidence which has only just come to light.’
The trace of a smile passed over Evan’s face.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. I imagine the Registrar of Criminal Appeals will invite the Court of Appeal to consider the case of Caradog Prys-Jones also. He probably won’t want to recognise the Court by appealing himself, but given the importance of the issue, I think the Court will want to hear his case in any event. That remains to be seen.’
‘My only concern is with Arianwen, of course,’ Ben added. ‘In her case, I am confident that the Court will allow the appeal and overturn her conviction.’
Evan picked up a paperweight with practised nonchalance and passed it gently from one hand to the other several times.
‘Well, I must say, Ben, that shows an admirable optimism on your part, even if rather misplaced.’
‘You think so?’
‘I do.’ He paused with the paperweight in his right hand. ‘As I recall, your client was caught by the police – bang to rights, as I believe the phrase is – with a competently constructed explosive device in her car, on her way to delivering it to her brother, who would then have planted it in Caernarfon Castle, in a position where it would have caused serious injuries if detonated during the Investiture.’
The paperweight began its rhythmic exchange of hands once more.
‘So, yes, I do think an appeal against conviction sounds a little optimistic. Profoundly optimistic, actually.’
‘It’s not a question of optimism, Evan,’ Gareth said. ‘I also believe that Arianwen’s appeal will be allowed, her conviction will be quashed, and she will walk away from the Royal Courts of Justice a free woman as soon as the Court of Appeal has delivered its judgment. I’m not so sure about Caradog or Dai Bach, but even in their cases, I think it is possible that the same result will follow. I can’t be sure of that, but I do feel confident about Arianwen’s case.’
‘I see,’ Evan smirked. ‘Well, a certain misplaced optimism is only to be expected in juniors, but I am surprised that an experienced Silk such as yourself should succumb to it,
Gareth. I assume you are going to enlighten me?’
‘We are,’ Gareth replied. He opened his briefcase and extracted the large envelope he had brought with him. He reached out and placed the envelope in front of Evan Roberts on his desk.
‘This is a long and detailed affidavit dealing with the history of this case, written and sworn to by – well, I will call him Trevor Hughes for the moment. When you have read it, I think you will agree with me about the effect his evidence is likely to have on the Court of Appeal.’
Ben saw that the mention of Trevor Hughes’ name had an immediate and startling effect on Evan, which he tried, in vain, to hide. The violent movement of the head and widening of the eyes were all too obvious. He swallowed hastily, and replaced the paperweight on his desk, but made no effort to pick up the envelope.
‘How do you come to be in possession of such a document?’ he demanded. ‘Trevor Hughes is a fugitive from justice. It can’t be right for you to…’
‘The first and most important point made in the affidavit,’ Gareth continued, talking over Evan and giving every impression of not having heard him, ‘is that the man we all referred to during the trial as Trevor Hughes is in fact Detective Constable Trevor Finch, an officer of the Metropolitan Police who had been on an undercover assignment for Special Branch in Caernarfon since 1961, and remained so until the morning of the Investiture, when his wife, her brother, and Dafydd Prosser were arrested.’
Evan Roberts suddenly collapsed backwards into his chair. The blood seemed to drain from his face.
‘That’s absurd…’ he began weakly.
‘As I’m sure you recall, the prosecution presented the case to the jury on the basis that Trevor Hughes was a co-conspirator who had somehow managed to escape the clutches of the police on that fateful morning. Dark hints were dropped that he had managed to flee to Ireland. I can quote the exact words you used in your opening speech, if you wish to be reminded of them. I made a note at the time.’
‘I do not need to be reminded of what I said,’ Evan protested.
‘In fact, you were right about one thing. DC Finch did escape that morning; but not to Ireland, and not because he was a co-conspirator. On the orders of his superiors, he returned to London, where he was ordered to lie low until the coast was clear; by which I think they probably meant the time when the trial was over, all three defendants had been convicted, and the case was beginning to fade from public memory.’
Evan stared blankly at Gareth and Ben in turn. Gareth allowed some time to pass before continuing.
‘Unfortunately for them, there were some things his superiors didn’t know about DC Finch – or so I assume. They didn’t know that he had fallen in love with Arianwen, married her, and had a child by her. They really didn’t know the man at all. Trevor Finch broke every rule in the book, of course, by marrying Arianwen without telling his superiors. That was a terrible error of judgment on his part, and it will cost him his career. But Trevor Finch is a man of principle, and his superiors reckoned without that.’
‘You see, Evan,’ Ben added, ‘Trevor Finch’s marriage to Arianwen was not a marriage of convenience; it was not a way to get closer to her brother or to spy on the Heirs of Owain Glyndŵr. On the contrary, Finch loved Arianwen very much – he still does – and he was never going to allow her to spend the best part of her life in prison without doing whatever he could to prevent it. He is prepared to give evidence about all of it, and I think the Court of Appeal will find him very credible.’
Evan was still staring blankly. His arms had fallen down to his sides.
‘I’m sure the implications of all this are obvious enough, Evan,’ Gareth said, ‘but just in case of doubt I will spell them out for you. Arianwen’s defence was that she had no idea she had the bomb in her car. Whether or not that is true, neither you nor I, nor the jury, will ever know. But the fact of the matter is that Trevor Finch, alias Hughes, was a witness vital to Arianwen’s defence, who was spirited away and falsely painted as a missing co-conspirator. She was deprived of the opportunity to put her defence fully and fairly to the jury. The court and the jury were misled. The case was presented on a wholly false basis. In fact, I think one might even go so far as to say that the conviction of Arianwen Finch was obtained by fraud.’
He paused briefly again.
‘Finch also says, by the way, that the evidence of the paperwork relating to the garage, and the purported invoices for the carrying case and so on, is fabricated. He has supplied a sample of his handwriting, and we expect our expert witness to confirm his evidence once she has had a chance to look at it.’
At last, Evan seemed to breathe again, but the false bonhomie had vanished now, and his voice was barely audible.
‘I knew nothing about any of this,’ he said.
‘I am very glad to hear that,’ Gareth replied. ‘But perhaps you see now why we are confident that Arianwen’s appeal will be successful. We are also confident that once the Court of Appeal has given its judgment, the career of one or more senior police officers will end abruptly in disgrace.
‘What we are not sure of is whether or not the career of anyone in the office of the Director of Public Prosecutions, or the careers of one or two members of the Bar, will end in a similar way. We assume, of course, that you and Jamie Broderick, as members of the Bar, had nothing to do with the fraud, and that you knew nothing about Finch’s true identity. I am very glad to have that confirmed – for the sake of the profession, as much as for your sakes.’
‘If this is true, I knew nothing about it at all,’ Evan said, ‘and I am quite sure that the same applies to Jamie.’
‘In that case,’ Gareth said, ‘I would like to suggest that you take certain steps, in your own interests, to make that clear to the Court of Appeal. That is why we are here this afternoon.’
‘Steps? Such as…?’
‘Such as telling them that you will not object to them hearing Trevor Finch’s evidence, that you do not challenge that evidence and, therefore, that you cannot in good conscience resist Arianwen’s appeal. I will not ask you to roll over in the other cases, Caradog and Dai Bach. I recognise that there is an argument to be made in their cases. But Arianwen’s appeal is unanswerable, and I hope you would agree that it would be unconscionable to allow her to remain in prison a day longer than she has to.’
Evan stared at Gareth for a long time. Gareth returned the stare impassively, apparently in no hurry to continue. Evan made a monumental effort to recover his composure.
‘Gareth,’ he said at length, ‘all three of these defendants were, and are, as guilty as sin. Caradog Prys-Jones masterminded the plot, Dafydd Prosser constructed the device, Arianwen drove the car, and all three of them planned to plant and detonate it during the Investiture.’
‘Let’s focus on Arianwen for the moment,’ Gareth replied.
‘She is just as guilty as her brother and Prosser.’
‘Her defence was taken away from her by the fraud perpetrated on the court by the prosecution,’ Ben said calmly. ‘The only question remaining is: who knew that the case put forward by the prosecution was fraudulent? It may be that the truth will emerge during the appeal, regardless of what you or I do. But I need hardly point out to an advocate of your experience that the way in which the appeal is presented may have a considerable effect on that, one way or the other.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean what I said: that the way in which I present the appeal is bound to affect the Court of Appeal’s view about who knew what, and when.’
‘I sincerely hope,’ Evan said, pulling himself up in his chair, ‘that you are not trying to threaten me in some way; because if you are…’
‘Don’t try to take the moral high ground, Evan,’ Gareth interrupted. His voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking his intent. ‘Not in this case. It’s not appropriate. It is not on. Ben is absolutely right.
The fact is that there are two ways in which he can open this appeal to the Court. Whichever way he chooses, the appeal is going to succeed, so there is no particular reason for preferring one over the other.
‘The first way is for him to lay the blame fairly and squarely on the police, and stop there. That would be a perfectly reasonable approach. After all, on any view, the main responsibility lies with the police. Following the usual gentlemanly practice, Ben could probably persuade the Court that there is no ground for assigning blame to counsel. Barring any unexpected turn of events, that would probably be enough to insulate you and Jamie – though not necessarily those in the Director’s office. I am sure the Court would be quite relieved if it could be dealt with in that way.’
Evan did not reply. Gareth looked briefly at Ben before continuing.
‘The second way to open the case,’ he said, ‘is to imply that the police could not have perpetrated such a fraud on their own. There are too many unanswered questions. How, the Court may wonder, could counsel have been blissfully ignorant of who DC Trevor Finch was and what role he played in the case? The Court will know that we have no way of proving how high, or how far, the deception went. For Ben’s purposes, that does not matter. The Court is bound to allow the appeal. But once the seed of deception at the highest level is planted in their minds, they will have no alternative but to order a full inquiry… and once that happens… well, all bets are off, aren’t they?’
Evan was silent for some time.
‘If the prosecution does not resist my appeal,’ Ben said, ‘I have no incentive to say any more than is strictly necessary. I can’t guarantee that the Court may not decide to probe further, of course, but I can give the impression that I see no need for it to do so.’
‘This is blackmail,’ Evan said.
‘It’s nothing like blackmail,’ Ben replied. ‘I keep forgetting that crime is not really your field, so I will not make a point of arguing with you about the law. I am perfectly content with my own moral position. The question is whether you are content with yours.’
