Killing Satisfaction

by Jason De'Ath

  Carmichael gingerly stepped into the open area of the court and walked over to the judge’s bench, fully aware of the watchful eyes trained upon him, and Norcroft’s self-satisfied expression.

  “My Lord?” enquired Carmichael in a low voice.

  “Do you know anything about this statement malarkey?”

  “Er, no I do not, my Lord.”

  “I want this matter looked into, Mr Carmichael. I expect some explanation before this trial concludes.” “Of course, my Lord.” agreed Carmichael submissively.

  Norcroft recommenced his examination: “Mrs Pomfrey-Jones, I note in this statement that you thought the victim –

  Miss Fable – initially stated that the gunman had brown eyes?”

  “Did I...? Oh yes, I must have. The poor girl wasn’t very coherent at first.”

  “But are you sure that she did say that?” reiterated Norcroft with optimism.

  “Yes, I think so.” she finally committed herself.

  “Members of the jury, in the original description given to the press, it did state that the gunman had brown eyes... Early on in the investigation, the main suspect did have brown, or hazel eyes, and although Miss Fable has remained adamant in her description of piercing blue eyes, it is unclear precisely when she became resolved to that detail.”

  “I think there was some confusion with the name the gunman had adopted for himself: that being Mr Brown.” adduced Carmichael.

  “Perhaps,” agreed Norcroft, “but the discrepancy remains, nonetheless.” he concluded, turning to the jury. “No more questions, my Lord.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  (18 January 1966)

  The final day of the Prosecution case had arrived. Jameson took his place in the dock with some apprehension: the last two prosecution witnesses were a downright puzzle to Arthur. The first, a name he did not recognise, the second beyond obvious comprehension. It was certainly clear that the Prosecution were intending to end on a climax, but precisely what that entailed, Arthur and his defence team could only surmise from deliberately limited information – and that suggested at exceedingly disquieting possibilities.

  A young woman by the name of June Maxfield was called to take the stand; she had curly ginger hair and a heavily freckled face; her bright green eyes coyly glanced toward the dock, allowing her a brief glimpse of Arthur, who she immediately recognised – Arthur likewise had a spark of recognition at that moment.

  “...Mrs Maxfield, in 1962 you were known as June Nokes and living in Bramley, Hampshire – is that correct?” “Yes.” she answered in very low and nervous voice.

  “Please speak up, Mrs Maxfield.” Ravensdale requested, “The members of the jury need to hear your responses – try to relax.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.” acknowledged Carmichael, “In August 1962, you were eighteen years of age...?” “Er, yes.”

  “Do you recall meeting a young man calling himself ‘Alf Johnson’?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Can you see that man in the court today?”

  “Yes: he’s the man in the dock.”

  “For the record, the witness has identified Arthur Jameson... Mrs Maxfield, did you accompany this man on a number of dates during August 1962?”

  “Yes I did. Four...four dates.”

  “And on the last of these dates, where did Arthur Jameson take you?”

  “Alf...that is, Arthur, turned up in an open top sports car – I don’t remember what type it was, except that it was bright red.”

  “I see, and where did Arthur take you?”

  “He suggested we have a picnic in the country; he had a hamper and everything.” she recollected with a tinge of glee.

  “Where did he actually take you?”

  “It was a surprise – I don’t know exactly. He drove for about half an hour, something like that, to a wood.” “A wood?”

  “Yes, there was a clearing and we parked there. I’m not sure where we were – I never did find out.” June stated quizzically.

  “And what happened in this wood?”

  “...We had a picnic. It was very nice... Then Alf, Arthur, whatever his name really is, started getting a bit, well, fresh.” “He made romantic advances?” assisted Carmichael.

  “Yes; he tried to kiss me... I liked him, but I think I’d already decided that he wasn’t my type, really. So, I wasn’t particularly interested in anything...like that.”

  “How did he react?”

  “Um, he seemed upset; angry... Then he said we should leave, and go back to Bramley.”

  “Did you feel threatened?”

  “A little... But once we got back in the car, he seemed fine...though he didn’t talk much after that... He drove me to my door and dropped me off, and that’s the last I ever saw of him – until today.”

  “Thank you Mrs Maxfield, no more questions.”

  Norcroft slowly stood up and gave June a contemplative look: “Mrs Maxfield, why did you come forward?”

  “I read about the case in the paper; I thought I recognised the picture, although the name was wrong. Anyway, I just thought the police might be interested...in speaking to me.”

  “Why did you think that?” impelled Norcroft.

  “I thought I might be of help... I wanted to say that I never felt afraid of him, and he didn’t attack me, did he?”

  “No, June, he didn’t – thank you. No more questions my Lord.” Norcroft retreated triumphant in his reversal of the strategic impetus of this witness’ evidence.

  Carmichael closed his eyes and inwardly prayed for divine intervention. The final prosecution witness was about to take the stand – this was the last throw of the dice. As Eric Whittley walked arrogantly into the courtroom, Arthur had to be restrained by the dock warder, such was his infuriation in regard to what he suspected Whittley was about to claim.

  “...Mr Whittley, you spent a period of six days sharing a cell in Brixton prison with Arthur Jameson, up until the 14th of

  January this year...?”

  “Yes, I did, sir.”

  “During that time, were you able to gain Jameson’s confidence?”

  “Yeah, we was matey...” Arthur shook his head in vehement disagreement; Whittley turned to address the jury: “When y’u’ banged up with a bloke for a few days, the usual barriers soon breakdown, uverwise you’d end up killin’ eachuver.”

  “Yes, indeed... So, you were able to form a rapport with Jameson, would you say?” “Yeah, I fink so.”

  “What did you talk about during your six days cooped up in a cell together?”

  Whittley shrugged: “Stuff...All sorts.”

  “Including your respective alleged crimes?”

  “Yes, of course. Everyone does.” he lied with a despicable grin.

  “And did Jameson impart any information relating to the crime for which he currently stands trial?”

  “Yeah...I asked ‘im, if ‘e did it... ‘E denied it at first, but then on the fifth night, ‘e suddenly opened up to me.” “What did he tell you?”

  “‘E said that ‘e did it... On a whim, like. ‘E said it started as a robbery, but when ‘e copped eyes on the bird, ‘e decided to ‘ave some fun.”

  “So, abduction, rape and murder, were all in his plans, more or less from the start?”

  “Yeah, tha’s right.”

  “All pre-meditated?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thank you, Mr Whittley. No more questions my Lord.”

  “Mr Norcroft, I presume you will be cross-examining this witness?” enquired Ravensdale with a rhetorical intonation. “I certainly will, my Lord.” Norcroft resolutely replied. “Mr Whittley, you are a career criminal, are you not?” “Sorry?” Whittley tried to look baffled.

  “How old are you Mr Whittley?” Norcroft asked tiresomely.

  “Thirty-one.”

  “Thirty-one... And how many of those thirty-one years have you spent in prison?”

  Whittley puffed out his cheeks: “I dunno, about eight,
I s’pose.”

  “So, most of your adult life has been spent at her Majesty’s pleasure?”

  “Yeah, if y’u put it like that.”

  “What is your nickname inside, Mr Whittley?” “Nickname?” Whittley feigned ignorance.

  “Come, come, Whittley, you know very well that you are called ‘The Ferret’ – aren’t you?”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so, and so does everyone else.” sniped Norcroft, causing one juror to have to suppress a laugh, “And what’s more is you are an infamous inmate... Why do they call you ‘Ferret’?”

  “I dunno – do they?”

  “Yes, because you are well known to constantly dig for information; information that you then use to trade for lighter sentences for yourself – isn’t that right?”

  “I do ‘elp the police sometimes – I think of it as a kind of atonement.”

  “Really... The thing is Mr Whittley, when you fail to derive the information you require, you simply invent it – don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You are currently on remand for blackmail, aren’t you?”

  “Yeaah.” groaned Whittley, painfully aware that Norcroft has the full low down on him. Carmichael inevitably, if somewhat wearily, objected: “The witness is not on trial, my Lord.” “I believe this is pertinent, Mr Carmichael.” deemed Ravensdale dismissively.

  “Thank you, my Lord.” Norcroft gratefully acknowledged, “Mr Whittley, I put it to you that you have concocted this evidence in order to curry favour with the judge at your trial next week – isn’t that right?”

  “No.”

  “Is that all you have to say, Mr Whittley?” demanded the judge.

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “I think that concludes my questions your Lordship.” Norcroft proclaimed with considerable satisfaction.

  “You may step down, Mr Whittley... Do you have any further witnesses Mr Carmichael?” queried Ravensdale.

  “No my Lord; that concludes the case for the Prosecution.” pronounced Carmichael, now feeling thoroughly disheartened.

  “In that case, I think an adjournment for lunch is appropriate, while Mr Norcroft formulates his opening speech. Court will reconvene at 1.15.” declared Ravensdale closing the session – once more, much to the relief of Arthur Jameson.

  The trial resumed at the allotted time, with Miles Norcroft addressing the Jury:

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury; My Lordship; you have now heard the voluminous machinations of the Prosecution case: copious in the detail, but with little palpable substance...

  There are four forms of material evidence: physical, documentary, witness and circumstantial. In this case, the physical evidence is both limited and of dubious provenance; the documentary evidence is questionable at best; the witness evidence – as I will soon demonstrate – is fatally flawed, and the circumstantial evidence is either misleading or wholly absent. The defence has already, and will further establish, an abundance of inconsistency and ambiguity in the Prosecution claims; a credible alibi will be presented which makes the defendants involvement in this crime an impossibility; character witnesses will attest to the defendants, admittedly tarnished, but otherwise inoffensive and essentially harmless existence; and moreover, I intend to expose a deeply flawed police investigation, rushed and pressured to pin the crime on the first remotely likely candidate.” Norcroft dramatically paused, “If you recall, members of the jury, in the early stage of this trial I submitted a research report by an eminent American Criminal Psychologist, which, though not categorical, is accepted to be highly authoritative. What that study strongly indicates is the weakness of witness identification under a variety of circumstances and time intervals. This is a complex subject, which relies heavily on statistical analysis to reach its conclusions, so I will not bore you with the details; suffice to say that it forms the basis of an experiment which his Lordship and the learned Prosecution counsel have generously accorded an audience in this court. I can honestly say that neither I nor anyone else can predict the exact outcome of this experiment, and whatever the result is, will undoubtedly be disputed and/or manipulated by both of us to achieve our respective ends...” Norcroft noted that Carmichael was doodling a skeleton on a gallows, “Members of the jury, you will now have the honour of making British judicial history in the conductance of this small scale study. To summarise: anecdotal witness testimony is infamous for its unreliability, albeit that it remains an essential element in solving crime; ultimately, human fallibility is an inherent defect in the vast majority of all criminal case studies: fundamentally inescapable and indispensable, despite its obvious shortcomings...” Ravensdale was now becoming impatient and starting to yawn; Norcroft cut to the chase. “In this case, the primary identification is that of Miss Fable, and is by far and away the most reliable; she saw the gunman close-up and for comparatively long periods of time. However, the conditions under which the observations of her attacker were constructed were less than perfect, because at all times it was extremely dark; of course, there was some light, mainly in the form of moonlight. In this experiment I am attempting to replicate those conditions, as best as possible; we also have to consider that there was a 26 day interval between the committal of the crime and Miss Fable’s identification. It is a fact that the memory’s detail fades over time and can be distorted by subsequent experience...

  We employed a professional photographer and actors to facilitate our experiment. In a moment, each of you in the jury, will be asked to examine a high quality portrait photograph of our mock-criminal; this image has been subject to lighting that replicates the conditions in Marsholm Wood on the night of the 31st of July 1965, that is to say, that the subject is lit with an artificial light source that simulates moonlight. Each of you will be asked to examine the image for 30 seconds and then return to the jury box. Once all of you have completed this task, you will each be asked in turn to examine a large photo of a line-up of twelve men – each assigned a number, one to twelve, much as in a real line-up, with similar lighting. The fact that the facial area of the men in the line-up photo will be somewhat smaller than the original is representative of the loss of recallable detail over a period of approximately one month. You will each decide which man in the line-up photo is the man in the original and write that number down on a piece of paper that will be provided, and you will then fold that up, so as to conceal your choice; you will then be asked to place that in a box, much like a ballot box on a polling day. Once all of you have done this, the box will be passed to his Lordship, who will kindly determine the result.”

  Ravensdale woke with a jolt as his arm slipped; he then did his best to pretend that he hadn’t drifted off, although no one had noticed, due to the fact that everyone in the court was suffering from drowsiness by this time. “Shall we get this little exercise under way, Mr Norcroft?” suggested the judge wearily.

  The clerk of the court handed the “ballot” box to the judge, who then proceeded to empty out the contents and collate the result. There followed a deafening silence inside court number 6, as everyone awaited the momentous result with bated breath.

  “I believe I have the result, Mr Norcroft.” notified Ravensdale.

  “I am very grateful, my Lord... Before his Lordship announces the result, for the court record, the number of the mockcriminal in the line-up was number 4.” Norcroft declared with a note of apprehension – this really was a risky game to have played; now he would discover whether or not it would have the desired effect. “Members of the jury, my employment in this case is quite literally at stake, as I am sure that my client will promptly sack me if this backfires.” This produced a nervous titter to ripple around the court; the tension was tangible. “My Lord, would you be so good as to reveal the result to the court?”

  Ravensdale took a deep breath, before puffing out his cheeks in an ambivalent display: “There are ten votes for subject 4.” An audible note of curiosity fluttered in the air, “One vote for subjec
t 6, and one vote for subject 10... And I have no idea what that means.” he confessed.

  “My Lord,” began Norcroft’s contention, “what this indicates is that one in six made an incorrect identification; that equates to approximately 16.5%.”

  “Yeas. I’m still not much wiser, Mr Norcroft.” the judge professed.

  “My Lord, if you recall the Fallenberg report, his findings indicated about a 20% error rate – which is similar... Would the jurors who did not pick number 4, please reveal themselves for the benefit of proving fair play?” requested Norcroft; two slightly embarrassed hands were raised. “Please do not regard your error as a personal failing; what we are demonstrating here is a normal human failing, to which we are all susceptible.”

  Carmichael now decided that he had afforded sufficient respect for his learned friend’s performance and it was time to put the Prosecution’s spin on the result: “My Lord, may I address the jury?”

  “You may.”

  “Members of the jury, we have all participated in a potentially groundbreaking experiment, but it should be viewed with due caution. Granted it has indicated that one in six identifications, under the circumstances of this case, at least, are potentially erroneous; however, there is of course the converse conclusion, vis-à-vis, that 5 out of 6 identifications are correct; nearly 85%.”

  “I thank my learned friend for his perceptive observation.” cited a subtly thorny Norcroft, “Members of the jury, what I would seek to proffer is that this exercise is proof of the potential inexactness of witness identification, irrespective of how credible it may seem. That, I hope you will all agree, makes room for reasonable doubt.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  (19 January 1966)

  The Wednesday morning of the 19th of January heralded the beginning of the Defence case proper. The court was brought to session by the court recorder. Ravensdale decided to have a small joke with Norcroft before addressing the jury: “I see that you’re still with us, then, Mr Norcroft?”