by Peter Murphy
‘And it wasn’t because you thought there might have been fraud, it was too late for a recount, and you were angry? Wasn’t that the real reason?’
‘No, it was not.’
Julian sits down with a brief look towards the jury. Roderick stands, but almost immediately sits down again.
‘I don’t think I have anything to add to that, your Honour.’
Cathy asks a couple of tentative questions, but she knows she is on dangerous ground, and has every chance of making matters worse. The evidence of Liam Voss is complete. Cathy calls three short character witnesses who tell us what a good, honest, helpful and caring man Liam Voss is, and that is the end of his case.
‘Judge Jenkins would like to see you in chambers, Judge,’ Carol says confidentially, standing and turning round to face me. ‘She says it’s urgent.’
I look at the clock. Coming up to twelve o’clock.
‘Can’t it wait until lunchtime?’
‘Something to do with the twins at school,’ Carol replies. ‘She has to leave. But she was most insistent about seeing you first.’
I announce that I may have to rise for some time.
‘Your Honour, in fact, I was going to ask if I could have some time before opening Mr Mayfield’s case,’ Julian says.
‘You have until two o’clock,’ I reply.
I adjourn the case accordingly and make my way to Marjorie’s chambers. She is packing various items into a large handbag and shows every sign of being anxious to get away.
‘I’m sorry, Charlie,’ she says, ‘I have to go to see the twins at school.’
‘Oh, dear,’ I say, ‘nothing too serious, I hope.’
‘Sounds like a bad cold, but the school’s worried in case it’s the flu. I’m sure it’s nothing, but they are insisting on my being there, to take them home if needed. Nigel is in Geneva all week. Stella wanted to give me a sentence or two to do this afternoon, but Hubert says he will do them for me.’
I’m sure he will, and I’m just as sure that I will be listening to him moaning about it at some length during lunch.
‘What about your trial?’ I ask.
‘That’s what I had to see you about,’ she replies. ‘You remember I told you yesterday that Piers Drayford wasn’t sure he could rely on the insurance company’s documents?’
‘Yes. You said there was a suspicion that someone may have been fiddling around with them to cover up a fraud.’
‘Yes, well it’s more than a suspicion now. It all unravelled once the financial investigator saw a pattern of alterations in the insurance company’s documents. He is now saying that all kinds of shenanigans went on, including the wholesale alteration of the dates on which policies were issued, funds were received and paid out, and so on. It’s so bad that Piers felt he couldn’t rely on the records any more as evidence against Gertie –’
‘But that must mean…?’
‘Exactly, Charlie. The whole prosecution case was based on dates, so this morning Piers threw his hand in and offered no further evidence.’
‘So Gertie is a free woman?’
‘She is, indeed.’
‘Well, I am very happy to hear that, Marjorie,’ I say, ‘but why the urgency to drag me off the bench and tell me now, when you’re so anxious to be on the road?’
‘The fraud involved the systematic diversion of funds by one particular executive for his own benefit, to the tune of about seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds over a period of three years. Of course, the investigator knows the identity of this man. It wasn’t mentioned in open court, because needless to say, the Old Bill are now anxious to talk to him and they don’t want him doing a runner. But Piers asked to see me in chambers, and gave me this note with the name written down. He thought you ought to see it.’
I take the note and read it twice before I believe it.
‘Bugger me,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ Marjorie says. ‘Quite a coincidence, isn’t it? Piers also gave me this, which he thought you might find interesting. Has any of his election material made its way into evidence in your case?’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘I suppose no one thought it was very relevant.’
She hands me a bright glossy blue and white election leaflet which sings the praises of one Richard William Mayfield, Conservative candidate for the constituency of Clavering West with Baddiefield, and draws particular attention to the candidate’s successful career in business before entering politics, including his stint as chief financial officer of a certain Wild Hart Insurance Company.
‘Which, I take it, is the company involved in your case?’ I ask.
‘The very same,’ Marjorie replies. ‘I understand that the financial investigator would like to sit in your court and monitor your trial, if you don’t mind.’
‘He is as welcome as the flowers in May,’ I say. ‘But I don’t think he will learn anything from it. My case isn’t about money.’
‘No. But Piers says the police and the CPS are thinking of contacting the Electoral Commission, and they want to know how your case ends before they decide what to do.’
This does get my attention.
‘What? With a view to setting aside the result of the election?’ I ask.
‘Well, it’s too early to say that,’ she replies. ‘But they think that someone who could commit fraud on the scale Mayfield apparently has would be quite capable of fraudulently diverting a couple of ballot boxes if he thought it might help to get him elected. At any rate, they think it is worth looking into.’
‘Well I never,’ I say. ‘So Mr Mayfield will be having his collar fingered, will he?’
‘The moment you and your jury have finished with him.’
For some inexplicable reason, this information gives me a certain satisfaction.
* * *
Wednesday afternoon
After lunch, which today was not an oasis of calm, but an endless round of complaints from Hubert, in between bites of his chicken korma dish of the day, about Marjorie taking off to see the twins again and leaving him with two sentences, we are ready for the case of the putative fraudster, Mr Richard Mayfield.
‘I’m not going to ask you about the campaign or the events of polling day in general,’ Julian says, after carefully establishing his client’s previous impeccable character and passion for honesty and integrity in politics. ‘If my learned friend Miss Writtle has any questions about any of that, of course, she will be free to do so during cross-examination.’
‘No, thank you,’ Cathy signals immediately.
‘If you knew what I know,’ I find myself thinking, ‘you might not be quite so quick off the mark with that.’
‘I’m much obliged,’ Julian says. ‘Mr Mayfield, tell the jury what you remember about what happened after Mr Malone had declared the result of the election.’
‘Well, I was delighted, needless to say,’ Mayfield replies. ‘I shook hands with the other candidates, except for Liam, who had his arms folded and refused to take my hand.’
‘Did you think anything of that?’
‘No, not really. I was slightly disappointed. You shake hands after a result is declared, just to show no hard feelings. But it didn’t bother me. I had my acceptance speech in the inside pocket of my jacket. I took it out, and skimmed through it while Mr Malone was giving out the rest of the information. Then I stepped up to the microphone to make my speech.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘When I was trying to give my speech, I heard Liam start shouting something about wanting a recount. I ignored him at first, but it soon became impossible to concentrate. We traded insults, as you know.’
‘Yes. Mr Mayfield, when you called Mr Voss a “working class lout”, did you intend that in any sense as a racial slur?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘When he called you an �
��upper class git”, did you take that as a racial slur?’
‘No. I did not.’
‘I’m not going to ask you to look at the footage again, Mr Mayfield. Others may, but I think the jury have seen it often enough by now. Did there come a time when you struck out at Mr Voss?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell the jury why you did that.’
‘Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reaching over the microphone to punch me. I swung back at him to defend myself.’
‘And why did you continue to strike him during the time when you were scuffling on the floor.’
‘For the same reason.’
‘Did you have any reason to be angry with Mr Voss, or to want to hit him?’
‘No. Not at all. I had won the election. All I wanted was to make my speech, and go across to the Pig and Whistle for a drink. My supporters had organised a victory party in their upstairs room, and I was anxious to get to it. It had been a long day. The last thing I needed was to get into a fight with anyone.’
‘At the time, were you aware of any explanation for Liam Voss attacking you?’
Mayfield thinks for a moment or two.
‘No. Of course, I didn’t know about the two missing ballot boxes until much later. I just assumed it was a bit of sour grapes. He had lost and he was upset about it and wanted to take it out on me. It was a loss of temper, I would say, a momentary lapse.’
Cathy and Roderick in turn make a valiant effort to change Mayfield’s mind about all of it, but with a marked lack of success. Indeed, the longer Mayfield stays in the witness box, the more confident he seems to become. He also calls three or four character witnesses to say what a good chap he is, though no one from the Wild Hart Insurance Company. We agree that we will do closing speeches and summing-up tomorrow.
* * *
Thursday morning
Nobody takes very long about it. Actually, it is a pretty simple case. The choices facing the jury are clear enough. They could convict both defendants on the basis that they each attacked the other at more or less the same time. They could convict one, but not the other, finding that one was defending himself against an attack by the other. Or they could find themselves unsure of what happened, and acquit both defendants. If they do convict either defendant, they can do it either with or without racial aggravation. All three counsel take the jury through these choices, as do I. The press, whose attendance has been flagging over the last day or so, are back in force today, so I take the opportunity to hammer home my position on the relationship between the British class system and the scourge of racial aggravation, emphasising how much the English system of jury trial owes to the common sense of juries in taking this kind of decision, and how confident I am that their common sense will prevail. I send the jury out just before lunch.
* * *
Thursday afternoon
They come back just before four o’clock. As Carol asks the defendants and the foreman of the jury to stand, I see that the financial investigator has found himself a place to lurk, in company with two youngish gentlemen in dark suits, who look very much like detective constables attached to a branch of the Met concerned with serious crime. You learn to spot them after a while.
‘Members of the jury,’ Carol says, ‘please answer my first question either yes or no. Has the jury reached verdicts on each count on which they are all agreed?’
The foreman is a man in his thirties, casually dressed in a blue shirt without either tie or jacket.
‘Yes, we have.’
‘On the first count of the indictment, charging Liam Voss with racially aggravated assault occasioning actual bodily harm, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’
The foreman consults his note. He has obviously recorded the jury’s decisions word for word, a wise precaution with so many eyes on him.
‘We find Mr Voss guilty of assault occasioning actual bodily harm, but without any racial aggravation.’
‘You find Liam Voss guilty of assault occasioning actual bodily harm, but without any racial aggravation, and is that the verdict of you all?’
‘It is, your Honour.’
‘On the second count of the indictment,’ Carol continues, ‘charging Richard William Mayfield with racially aggravated assault occasioning actual bodily harm, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’
‘We find Mr Mayfield not guilty.’
‘You find Richard William Mayfield not guilty, and is that the verdict of you all?’
‘Yes, your Honour.’
‘Thank you, Mr Foreman,’ Carol replies. ‘Please be seated.’
To my amazement, looking into the dock, I see Voss and Mayfield do something they didn’t manage to do at the count. They shake hands, apparently quite cordially. What they say to each other, I can’t hear, but there seems to be no animosity between them. I order Mr Mayfield to be discharged. He leaves the dock. The posse is keeping a quiet eye on him, but of course will not make its move until either he or I leave court.
Cathy stands.
‘Your Honour, despite the late hour, I wonder if I might seek to persuade your Honour to deal with sentence today? If your Honour feels that a custodial sentence is called for, then of course, I would ask for an adjournment for a pre-sentence report. But if your Honour feels that this was a case of a momentary loss of temper, in circumstances which offer, certainly not an excuse, but at least an explanation, and if a non-custodial sentence is in your Honour’s mind, then Mr Voss would prefer to be dealt with today. He has a number of important decisions to make about his future career.
‘And if your Honour will not think it presumptuous, may I add this? My instructing solicitors have spoken to Labour Party Headquarters. If Mr Voss were to receive a community order, there would be no bar to his standing as a candidate again. Only if he were to receive a prison sentence would he be barred. As your Honour knows, he is a man of previous good character…’
Her voice trails away. It doesn’t take me long to decide. I have no intention of sending Voss to prison, even if the assembled reporters are mentally egging me on in the interests of milking this case for one more good story. He has already suffered enough for his moment of widely-publicised stupidity. I agree to hear mitigation now. But before Cathy can say another word, the temporarily vindicated Honourable Member for Clavering West with Baddiefield steps boldly forward.
‘Your Honour, if I may, I would like to say a word for Liam as a character witness.’
I can’t help it. I have to laugh at the thought of Richard Mayfield acting as a character witness for someone. The financial investigator and his cohorts also seem to find it funny. In a few minutes from now, the humour may be apparent to everyone, but it’s not quite time for that. So why not? After all, I don’t officially know anything adverse to Richard Mayfield, do I? Of course, Cathy makes no objection; it’s an unexpected offer of help.
‘Yes, all right, Mr Mayfield,’ I say. ‘I’m only laughing because I’ve never had anything quite like this happen before. Come and take the oath.’ He does.
‘Now, what would you like to say?’
He surveys the courtroom self-importantly. Of course, with so many reporters looking on, what better opportunity could there be for some good publicity to kick off his parliamentary career? A handsome show of magnanimity in victory is one of the hallmarks of the statesman, and never does any harm. And he has beaten Liam Voss to the post twice now. Hasn’t he?
‘Your Honour, Liam is a good young man. We may represent different parties, we may have different political outlooks, but we have shared the camaraderie of the campaign trail, and every time I have come across him, he has been friendly and courteous. What happened on the night of the count was wholly out of character, and I am quite sure it will never happen again. He became distressed by what he thought might have been an irregularity, and he over-reacted. He just lost
his temper for a moment, that’s all it was. I would not like to see his career in politics ended because of this. I hope you will find it in your heart to deal with him leniently.’
‘Thank you, Mr Mayfield,’ I say. ‘In the light of the injuries you received, that is a very generous gesture.’
I ask Cathy if she wants to add anything, while signalling to her that there is no need. I sentence Liam Voss to a community order for twelve months, and order him to perform a few hours of unpaid work for the benefit of the community. I ask if he understands the sentence.
‘Yes, your Honour, thank you,’ he replies. ‘I would like to apologise again to Mr Mayfield, and to the people of Clavering West with Baddiefield. My only regret, and it is entirely my fault, is that I have deprived myself of the opportunity to earn their trust and represent them as their MP.’
I can’t resist it.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t write that off just yet, Mr Voss,’ I say as I rise for the day. ‘They say a week is a long time in politics, don’t they? I wouldn’t give up hope entirely if I were you.’
* * *
Thursday evening
The Reverend Mrs Walden and I watch the evening news, which reports on the verdicts, and has a further, very satisfying, segment showing the Honourable Member for Clavering West with Baddiefield protesting vigorously as he is led by two detectives from the main entrance of the Bermondsey Crown Court to a waiting car. The news anchor explains that Mr Mayfield is helping police with their inquiries into an alleged fraud, and has denied any wrongdoing.
The Reverend waits for the news to be over, and tells me to close my eyes. This is always the harbinger of a surprise of some kind, and I obey, wondering what on earth it could be. It’s not my birthday, after all. Then I feel paper being pressed between my hands, and open my eyes. At first, I think I may have a heart attack. But as I take it in, I smile. It is an editorial in the Mail.
PARLIAMENT MUST RETHINK RACE LAW – TOP JUDGE
One of the country’s most senior judges has told Parliament that it should look again at the law of racial aggravation, following an attempt this week to convict two men of racially aggravated offences of assault, during which they called each other ‘upper class’ and ‘working class’. Rejecting a defence application to remove the claim of aggravation from the indictment, Judge Charles Walden, Resident Judge at Bermondsey Crown Court, said that Parliament should have thought more carefully about whether it really intended to include a social class in the concept of racial abuse. The judge added that he was confident that the jury would use their common sense and do the right thing.
