Chapter 70: Not Fit
Monday May 11th 09:30
The charges were quickly amended to include four counts of murder. With the alibis shown to be false, and that lie on the record, the case against Doctor Byron Carruthers was strengthened considerably.
It also meant that Carruthers was subject to four crimes triable by indictment, the most serious category of crimes under English law. It was no longer up to Carruthers where his case would be tried. He was off to the Crown Court to a face a jury of his peers.
But before that could happen, an administrative detail had to be attended to. The case needed to be formally ‘Sent’ to the Crown Court, and that meant Kieran had to turn up at Westminster Magistrates’ Court in person to make an application to do so under section 51 of the Crime and Disorder Act 1998.
The rules required that the defendant be present (Kieran always wondered why this sort of detail couldn’t be sorted via a less expensive method), so Doctor Carruthers and his nephew-lawyer Jacob Carruthers had been summonsed in person to Courtroom 1 on behalf of the defence while Kieran represented the crown.
Kieran stood and addressed his remarks to the chairman set in the centre of the three-magistrates-strong panel. ‘Sir, the defendant is charged with four counts of murder and one specimen count under the Human Tissue Act.’
‘Is the triable either way offence linked to the indictable charges?’ The magistrate referred to the category of offences which could be tried in either the Magistrates’ Court or the Crown Court.
‘Yes, sir. The charges are related. They arise from the same set of facts, and share common victimology.’
‘Then the charges are joined as requested. Now, as to bail–’
‘Excuse me, Your Honour,’ Jacob Carruthers said as he rose to his feet.
He was wearing the wig and gown of a barrister – though he was merely a solicitor-advocate. It was a pet peeve of Kieran’s that the practice was allowed in any court, let alone the Magistrates’, where a wig was total overkill. Kieran himself was wearing only a suit.
‘Before we turn to bail, if it may please the court, the defence would request an adjournment.’
Oh, boy. This was going to be amusing. An adjournment at the Magistrates’ on a murder charge?
‘On what grounds?’
‘My client is medically unfit to stand trial,’ Jacob said.
‘Stand, sir,’ the magistrate directed, and Doctor Carruthers stood. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘I have kidney failure, sir, and require dialysis.’ Carruthers wore a pained look, as if his kidneys were troubling him right there and then.
‘I fail to see the issue.’
‘My client needs access to dialysis machines,’ Jacob said, ‘and he cannot both receive proper treatment and participate in his defence effectively.’
‘And when will he stop needing dialysis?’
‘When he gets a transplant,’ Jacob said.
Or dies. ‘Sir, this is a complete surprise to the prosecution,’ Kieran said. ‘Doctor Carruthers has travelled all over London over the last few weeks. We will be introducing evidence showing that he was sufficiently fit to stalk and then murder four people. The defence request for an adjournment is preposterous.’
‘We agree. The defence request is denied,’ the magistrate said.
Doctor Carruthers remained standing, snatched up his lawyer’s notepad and a pen, and then leant again Jacob’s back in order to scribble something down. ‘But, Your Honour, I have a doctor’s note.’
‘Let’s see it.’
Carruthers handed the note to the bailiff.
‘Very funny, Mr Carruthers,’ the magistrate said.
‘Then, Your Honour, I’d like to fire my lawyer. Jacob, you’re off the case. Sir, can I have that adjournment now?’
‘While it is within your prerogative to fire your lawyer, it is within mine to decide if you can have an adjournment,’ the magistrate said. ‘Do you intend to find an alternative lawyer?’
‘I intend to represent myself.’
‘Very well. Then, to bail. Mr O’Connor?’
The prosecutor paused as if to collect his thoughts. ‘The defendant is accused of murder, of mutilating the corpses of the deceased and of doing so undetected for a long time. He has ample resources and few ties to the community. We request remand.’
‘Mr Carruthers?’
‘I have no convictions at all. I am not in a fit state to flee. I am an old man. I do not belong in prison.’
‘Very well. Give us a moment to confer.’
The magistrate chairing the proceedings huddled with the other magistrates flanking his left and right. They turned back a few minutes later to announce their decision.
Carruthers made bail that night. He returned home to find the locks had been changed and was forced to decamp to a cheap hotel with nothing more than the clothes on his back.
Ayala followed from a distance. One of the conditions of Carruthers’ bail was the need to wear an ankle bracelet so he could be tracked at any time. Ayala hoped he’d try to take it off. If the doctor broke even one condition of his bail, Ayala would make sure that Carruthers was carted straight back to HMP Belmarsh.
Chapter 71: Backstab
Monday July 6th 09:30
The Old Bailey hummed with activity when the Carruthers trial made it to the top of the docket. Reporters thronged the street outside, cameras flashing, the media circus in full swing.
The jury was selected in short order. Six men, six women. Eight white, two Asian and two black. It was as representative a jury as anyone could have asked for. The process took a little over three hours.
Mr Justice Adam Quinn dismissed the jury for lunch, ready to start the opening statements after lunch. Kieran rose, ready to make a break for it.
‘Not you, Mr O’Connor. Nor you, Doctor Carruthers. Sit back down.’
Kieran sat. ‘My Lord?’
‘I am concerned that Doctor Carruthers is representing himself when he is facing such grievous charges. Have you advised him of the law?’ Quinn referred to the obligation lawyers were under to assist so-called litigants-in-person.
‘I have, My Lord. Doctor Carruthers appears to have no interest in being counselled or advised.’
Quinn’s gaze swept from the prosecutor over to the defence table. ‘And you understand that you are entitled to a lawyer?’
Carruthers rose to make eye contact with the judge. ‘I do.’
‘You’re sure you wish to proceed as your own representation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Very well. How do you plead?’
‘Not guilty, My Lord, to all charges.’
***
‘The prosecution calls Isaac Ebstein to the stand.’
The doctor shuffled forward, paused for a moment as if in awe of the courtroom itself, and was prodded onwards to the witness box by the bailiff. He was quickly sworn in.
Kieran stood, this time bedecked in his full wig and gown rather than the suit he had donned for the initial appearance in the Magistrates’ Court. ‘Doctor Ebstein, what happened when you fell ill three years ago?’
‘I had end stage chronic kidney disease. My kidneys were failing, and I was on dialysis. I had to go on a sabbatical from work. There wasn’t an available organ on the register for me. They said I wasn’t high enough priority yet. My nursing team were friends as well as colleagues, and they began a campaign to get all of the staff at The Royal London to get tested to see if any of them might be a match.’
‘What was the result of that campaign?’
‘Hundreds of doctors, nurses, and support staff were tested. I can’t think them all enough for how wonderful they were. There was one outstanding match. That was Doctor Byron Carruthers. He’s sitting over there.’ Ebstein pointed at the dock.
‘Let the record show that the witness is pointing at Byron Carruthers, the defendant,’ Kieran said. ‘Doctor Ebstein, would you still be here today if not for that man’s actions?’
>
Ebstein wiped at his eyes as if to brush away a tear, though Kieran could not see any. ‘I’d be dead. I owe Doctor Carruthers my life.’
‘Is it fair to say you’d do anything for him?’ Kieran said.
Carruthers sprang to his feet. ‘Objection! Leading the witness. Hey, this is fun. I’ve always wanted to try that.’
‘Sustained,’ Mr Justice Quinn said. ‘Rephrase your question, Mr O’Connor.’
Kieran nodded, paused for a moment to give the jury a chance to turn their attention back to him, and then continued. ‘Doctor Ebstein, you said you owed Doctor Carruthers your life. How did that make you feel?’
‘Like I owed him,’ Ebstein said. ‘I felt that I couldn’t refuse anything he asked for, and he asked for a lot.’
‘What did he ask you to do?’
‘He asked me to help him prevent people dying because of bureaucracy.’
‘Can you explain what you mean by that?’ Kieran prodded.
‘Every year thousands die waiting for organ transplants, and yet we have many viable organs going to waste. Byron wanted to do something about that.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He began to pressure families to sign up to the organ donation register,’ Ebstein said. ‘He would even offer them money towards the funeral if he thought it would help. Sometimes, if there was an organ he really needed and the donor had no close relatives to stop him, Carruthers would forge the paperwork saying they were donors.’
‘What was your role in this?’
‘I helped him. When we couldn’t find an organ, we’d buy one. Sometimes Carruthers donated his own organs.’
‘Which body parts did he donate?’ Kieran asked.
‘Apart from giving his kidney to me, he gave bone marrow to Olivia Hogge, a lung lobe to Primrose Kennard, and blood to as many patients as he could,’ Ebstein said. At Kieran’s quizzical look, he added, ‘Including Amoy Yacobi and Niall Stapleton.’
‘What happened to those people next?’
‘They were murdered.’
Kieran nodded. He would have thanked Ebstein for his testimony if such a thing were not precluded by the customs of court. As he sat back down and gathered his notes about him, Carruthers rose to begin his cross-examination.
‘Isaac, are you testifying against me to save your own skin?’
‘No–’
‘You’re not testifying as part of a plea deal you arranged with the prosecution?’ Carruthers swept an arm towards Kieran.
‘Well, yes, but–’
‘Nothing further.’ Carruthers sat back down and shot a grin at Kieran. First blood.
***
Kieran’s second witness was key to his case. Fenella Carruthers was the only one who could contradict her husband’s claim that he had been home on the night of each murder.
‘Mrs Carruthers, can you tell the Court what you told the police the first time they questioned you?’
‘I told them he was with me.’
‘Who?’
‘My husband.’
‘Is he in court today?’
‘He’s the defendant.’
‘Why are you testifying today as a prosecution witness?’ Kieran asked.
‘Because I lied. He wasn’t with me. I don’t know where he was.’
‘Nothing further,’ Kieran said. ‘Your witness.’
Carruthers approached his wife the way one might approach a snake. ‘Fenella, how long have we been married?’
‘Thirty-seven years.’
‘What job did I do during that time?’
Fenella looked at her husband as if it were a trick. ‘You were a doctor.’
‘I saved lives–’
‘Objection!’ It was Kieran’s turn to jump to his feet. ‘Opposing counsel is testifying.’
‘Withdrawn. Fenella, you told the police I was with you the first time they spoke to you, didn’t you?’
‘I did, but–’
‘And the second time, you said the same thing?’
‘Yes, but-not-the-third time.’
In her desperation, Fenella spoke so quickly her words merged together. Kieran glanced over to the jury. They understood.
‘You’re lying, aren’t you?’
‘No! I’m–’
‘My Lord, this is exhibit one I would tender into evidence.’ Carruthers passed two copies to the bailiff, who in turn gave one to the prosecutor and one to the judge. ‘This is a locksmith’s report showing that Fenella changed the locks to our family home on the night the police arrested me.’
Mr Justice Quinn peered down at Fenella. ‘Is this true, Mrs Carruthers?’
‘Yes, Your Honour. I didn’t want a killer in my home.’
‘Objection!’ Byron Carruthers cried. ‘Prejudicial.’
‘Sustained. Jury will disregard Mrs Carruthers’ last comment,’ Quinn said.
But they wouldn’t. The damage was done.
‘Are you planning to divorce me?’ Carruthers said.
‘What... how did you know?’ Fenella stammered.
‘I hired a private investigator. You talked to a divorce lawyer last week, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Fenella said in barely more than a whisper.
‘And having me in jail would net you a tidy settlement in a divorce, wouldn’t it? I’m finished with this witness, My Lord.’
***
The jury had heard days of testimony. After a while, fatigue began to set in. The medical evidence was confusing at least one of the jurors, and Kieran feared they might acquit if they couldn’t keep everything straight in their heads.
It was time to bring in the pathologist. Larry Chiswick was known for his straight-talking, no-nonsense approach to medicine, and he had years of expertise under his belt. Kieran would have called him as the first, last, and only medical witness but for the need to first establish that the transplants were medically possible and that that sort of thing required a specialist. Inevitably that led to a long, droning discussion that saw many of the jurors’ eyes glaze over.
‘Doctor Chiswick, you examined the bodies, didn’t you? Can you tell us your findings?’
‘That was me, yes. In order of death: Amoy Yacobi arrived in my morgue having been found hanging on a meat hook. His throat was slit, and that was what killed him.’
‘Was there anything unusual about his death?’
‘I did think it a bit odd that a seasoned criminal like Yacobi would let anyone get close enough to put a blade to his throat. I put that down to bad luck at the time.’
‘You don’t think it’s bad luck now?’
‘I can’t say. I found some consistencies between Yacobi’s death and that of Niall Stapleton that made me reconsider, but the Yacobi case was a long time ago. I’d forgotten all about it until recently.’
‘Tell me about Primrose Kennard,’ Kieran said.
‘She was the first of the recent victims. She was drugged with sodium thiopental. We found a needle tip embedded in her collarbone and a small puncture to the skin above.’
‘What is sodium thiopental?’
‘It’s an anaesthetic. It would have knocked her out cold about thirty seconds after being injected.’
‘Would she have been awake for those thirty seconds?’
‘She would have been conscious,’ Chiswick said. ‘To an outsider she’d have appeared drunk and disoriented.’
‘And what happened to her after she was knocked out?’
‘The killer cut out her lung. The one he’ – Chiswick gestured at the defendant – ‘donated to her.’
‘And that killed her?’
‘Yes. She never regained consciousness.’
‘Who was the next victim?’ Kieran asked.
‘Mr Niall Stapleton. He too had his throat slit.’
‘Like Mr Yacobi, the earliest victim?’
‘Exactly like him,’ Chiswick said. ‘The throat was slit with something exceptionally sharp.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such
as a scalpel.’
‘And did Mr Stapleton have a medical link to the other victims?’
‘I understand that he had a blood transfusion which came from Mr Carruthers, just like Mr Yacobi.’
‘So, all three of them were recipients of Mr Carruthers’ donations?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about the fourth victim?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because she received a bone marrow transplant, and the killer removed her bones. But I’m told the defendant admitted giving her an illegal bone marrow transplant.’
‘Objection!’ Carruthers roared.
‘Sustained. Watch yourself, Doctor Chiswick,’ Quinn said. ‘You know the rules.’
‘Nothing further.’ Kieran sat down. The jury had been nodding along with everything the pathologist r had to say. They were angry and righteously so. They now knew that Carruthers had given life, and Carruthers had taken it away.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kieran saw Carruthers stand up. Kieran hadn’t expected Carruthers to try to cross-examine an experienced pathologist. It was a risky move.
‘Doctor Chiswick, can you conclusively link Amoy Yacobi and Niall Stapleton?’
‘They are consistent. Both were cut. Both were hung upside down after death.’
‘But that’s not a unique method of killing someone, surely?’ Carruthers said.
‘No, I cannot conclusively link them.’
‘So, Amoy Yacobi could have nothing to do with Niall Stapleton?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Doctor, how many times a year can one donate blood?’
‘The minimum interval permitted is twelve weeks.’
‘Four times a year. How many units do you collect each time?’ Carruthers asked.
‘I don’t personally collect any.’
‘How many units can an adult male donate each time?’
‘Four.’
‘So, sixteen units a year. I donated for the better part of a decade. How many units would that be?’
‘Over a hundred.’
‘So, it’s possible that it could be a coincidence,’ Carruthers said.
‘I suppose so.’
‘Tell me about these cuts. Were they left to right or right to left?’
‘They were cut left to right.’
The DCI Morton Box Set Page 48
