A Matter for the Jury

by Peter Murphy

  ‘On a charge of indecent assault, you have the right to be tried either by the magistrates or by a judge and jury at Quarter Sessions,’ he explained. ‘But, in our case, it’s not really a choice. Letting a bench of local magistrates try their local vicar is not a good idea, for obvious reasons. So we are electing trial by jury. Once we make that election, the magistrates’ only function is to commit the case for trial. All they need in order to do that is enough evidence to support the charge; in other words, evidence that would allow a jury to convict. It doesn’t take much. If Raymond Stone tells them that you touched him in an indecent manner, that’s all it will take.’

  Ben paused to allow what he had said to sink in.

  ‘When we get to trial in front of a jury, it will be quite different. For a jury to convict, the case has to be proved beyond reasonable doubt, and the jury has to be warned that it would be dangerous to convict without corroborating evidence. That’s why I think it is not going to be easy for the prosecution, once we get to Quarter Sessions. But that’s not today. We have to choose our battles carefully.’

  Little nodded in compliance. Ben hoped he had made his point, but he fully expected the question to be raised again later in the morning. Reassurance was a long process with clients, sometimes. There were no short-cuts.

  ‘What if the magistrates want to ask me questions?’

  ‘The only question they are allowed to ask you is where you want to be tried.’ Ben smiled. ‘You are not going to give evidence today. I will tell the court that we reserve our defence for trial. Once we have got today over and done with, and we have Raymond’s deposition, we can begin to prepare our defence in more detail.’

  Ignatius Little looked down at the table for some time. Ben inadvertently raised his cup to his lips, took a sip, and immediately replaced it sharply on the table with a grimace.

  ‘Shall I order some fresh coffee?’ Jess suggested, with a grin.

  ‘That would be a very good idea,’ Ben replied.

  ‘Mr Schroeder,’ Little said, as Jess was pushing her chair back and getting to her feet, ‘Mr Davis tells me that we might not be able to call Joan as a witness. Is that true?’

  Jess sat back down quietly. Little paused.

  ‘I don’t understand it. We were close. We were planning to get married. I know she must be upset about the charge, but I would have expected her to give me the benefit of the doubt, you know, to stand by me. At least she could come to court and tell the jury that we are… were… engaged to be married. I mean…’ His voice trailed away miserably.

  Ben exchanged a quick glance with Barratt Davis.

  ‘She is not refusing to come to court,’ Ben said. ‘But whether or not we call her is something we can decide nearer the time, when we have a better idea of how the case looks. Try not to worry about that for today. As I say, once we have the prosecution evidence from the committal proceedings, we will have a much better idea of where we stand.’

  A waiter passed by. Jess picked up the coffee pot and waved it in the air. The waiter nodded, took the pot from her hand and marched smartly away towards the kitchen.

  Little sat back and closed his eyes. After some time, he stood.

  ‘I’m going to All Saints for a while,’ he said, ‘to pray before the hearing. Would you mind picking me up there when it’s time for court?’

  ‘It’s just across the street,’ John Singer said, pointing to the front window of the lounge. ‘Beautiful parish church, fifteenth century, some parts even older. Oliver Cromwell was baptised there.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Barratt Davis smiled. ‘Local boy made good, or bad, according to your point of view.’

  ‘Yes,’ Singer replied. ‘He was born just a bit farther down the High Street, and the grammar school where he was educated is opposite the church, just across the square.’

  He stood and looked at the retreating figure of Ignatius Little, which had almost reached the front entrance of the hotel.

  ‘I think I will join Ignatius in prayer for a few minutes, if you don’t need me.’

  ‘By all means,’ Barratt replied. If he was surprised, he did not show it. ‘We will pick you up just before 10 o’clock. It never does any harm to be at court in good time.’

  He waited until Singer had left the hotel. They could see the pair walking across George Street towards the church.

  ‘Well, he is the solicitor for the Diocese’ he said, ‘and I suppose a few prayers can’t do any harm. We need all the help we can get with this, don’t we? All right, it is the boy’s word against his, but somehow, that reflection is not yet making me feel particularly relaxed about the case. I have every confidence in you, Ben, but if God wants to weigh in and lend a hand, He’s going to get no opposition from me.’

  ‘Absolutely, Mr Davis,’ Ben smiled. ‘I make a point of never turning down a bit of divine intervention – as long as it’s on my side.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Barratt replied. ‘Oh, and by the way, I will be calling you Ben from this point, and I want you to call me Barratt. No more of that Mr Schroeder and Mr Davis stuff, except in front of clients and in Chambers, obviously. You’re one of the stable of Bourne & Davis counsel now, and we prefer first names, even if, as a member of the Bar, you are exalted in rank above us mere solicitors.’

  ‘He means that as a compliment,’ Jess said confidentially, leaning across the table towards Ben.

  ‘And it is accepted as such,’ Ben replied.

  ‘A nice piece of evasion, if I may say so,’ Barratt resumed, with a grin. ‘About the fiancée, I mean. The last thing we need today is a conversation about whether he can get it up with her, and whether there might be some section of humanity he fancies more than attractive young women.’ He turned to Jess. ‘You did report that she was attractive, didn’t you? Did I get that right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jess replied, ‘she is attractive, and a very nice girl, as far as I could judge from one meeting. And she doesn’t seem to be inhibited sexually.’

  ‘So, no reason not to lust after her then, is there?’ Barratt mused quietly, as if to himself. ‘Well, “sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof”.’ He raised his voice to its normal level again. ‘And speaking of that, how are you feeling about being prosecuted by your former pupil-master?’

  Ben laughed. ‘I nearly passed out when he first told me,’ he replied. ‘It is a bit daunting. But, on the other hand, I think it will be daunting for Gareth, too. He knows he won’t be able to get away with anything. I know too much about the ways he works.’

  ‘Well said,’ Barratt nodded.

  He turned and gazed through the window in the direction of the church.

  ‘He’s not entirely on our side, of course.’

  ‘Who? God?’ Ben asked.

  Barratt laughed. ‘No. John Singer.’

  Ben nodded. ‘He has a potential conflict of interest.’

  ‘Yes. He may be supporting Mr Little for now, but if the good vicar is convicted, the Diocese will be running for cover. They will drop him so fast it will make our heads spin. I only hope we can rely on the witnesses Singer is summoning up for us.’

  ‘Well, they must be concerned about being sued,’ Ben replied. ‘But I don’t think we have to worry about the witnesses. The Diocese will work with us for now. It’s not in their interests to jettison Little unless, and until, he is convicted.’

  Barratt nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘Do you think they have a form of prayer for this?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’ Jess queried, looking puzzled.

  ‘In the Book of Common Prayer. They have forms of prayer for everything, don’t they? For harvest home, for those in peril on the sea? I was just wondering if they have a form of prayer for vicars charged with touching up choir boys.’

  ‘Barratt!’ Jess protested.

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ Ben grinned.

 
‘I think they must. It would go something like this, wouldn’t it?’

  He spread his arms out wide and looked up towards the ceiling.

  ‘“Oh, most gracious and most bountiful God, we beseech thy blessings on A, (or he may say, the Vicar of wherever it is) who this day stands in peril from a jury of his peers. Or, actually, if possible we would prefer a jury of people who are not his peers. Defend this, thy servant, we pray, against every false allegation, and preferably also against every true one. In thy mercy, strengthen the hands of his most able solicitors and counsel, that they may safely deliver him from the peril aforesaid, and may get him off, to the greater glory of thy holy name and to the greater glory of Bourne & Davis and of Mr Ben Schroeder of counsel.”’

  Jess was pointing at him.

  ‘There is no hope for you, Barratt. You are going straight down when you die,’ she said through her laughter.

  ‘I don’t doubt it for a minute,’ Barratt replied.

  The waiter returned with hot coffee and fresh milk. Jess thanked him and poured. Suddenly, Barratt became more serious again.

  ‘I’m sure Merlin has told you about our next case from this holy part of the world?’

  ‘The St Ives murder?’ Ben replied. ‘Yes. I was going to ask if we could have a word about it once the committal is over.’

  ‘Yes, as much fun as the Reverend Little’s case may be, that’s going to be a different affair altogether. Did Gareth do a capital case when you were his pupil?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘No. He has done a few, one or two on his own. But he would very rarely talk about them.’

  ‘That’s the way of it,’ Barratt replied. ‘You don’t talk about them much once they are over. You want to forget and move on.’

  He paused for a sip of coffee.

  ‘Martin Hardcastle will be leading you. Do you know him?’

  ‘By reputation,’ Ben replied cautiously.

  ‘Yes, quite,’ Barratt replied. ‘I’m sure Merlin filled you in on the rumours.’

  ‘Well, I…’

  ‘He drinks,’ Barratt said, matter-of-factly. ‘Always has. But he’s bloody brilliant in court. Merlin would prefer me to go to someone in your Chambers, of course. Well, he’s the clerk. That’s his job. But you’ve only got the one Silk, haven’t you? And this isn’t a case for Bernard Wesley, Ben. Horses for courses, that’s all it is. In a civil dispute or a messy divorce, no one better. I would go to Bernard every time. But not for crime. I would go to Gareth, if he was in Silk. Is he going to apply?’

  Ben nodded. ‘I’m sure he is, either this year or next,’ he replied.

  ‘Good. I’m sure he’ll get it.’

  He looked up at the ceiling with a smile.

  ‘All the same, Barratt,’ Ben said. ‘The rumours have been pretty persistent. I don’t know Hardcastle myself, and I’m not saying you should be thinking of anyone in my Chambers. But aren’t you taking a chance? I mean, in a case like this…’

  ‘Martin Hardcastle,’ Barratt intoned reflectively. ‘Have you heard of Ulysses S Grant?’

  ‘Yes, he was President of the United States, after the Civil War, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. But before he was President, he was a general in the Union Army under Lincoln. By reputation he was the most competent and fearless of all the Union commanders. He won the decisive engagement at Shiloh, which split the Confederacy in half and shortened the war by a good while. Now, there was a man who had a reputation for drinking too much. Do you know what Lincoln said when that rumour reached him?’

  ‘No,’ Ben admitted.

  ‘He said: “If drink makes fighting men like Grant, then find out what he drinks and send my other commanders a case!” That’s the way I feel about Martin. The rumours are grossly exaggerated, as they were in Grant’s case – he suffered from migraines, which some mistook for hangovers, deliberately or otherwise. They can talk all they like, but Martin is a good man in a fight, just like Grant. He has been through this kind of case with me before, Ben. I want him by my side again.’

  ‘I understand,’ Ben replied.

  ‘I will book a consultation through his clerk once I know a little more about what the prosecution have. You, Jess, and I will have to go through everything thoroughly before the consultation. Martin will expect us to be prepared.’

  He took another drink of coffee.

  ‘I’m hoping, entre nous, that our friend Mr Singer will bow out of that,’ he said with a nod of the head in the direction of All Saints church. ‘I don’t mind him praying for divine assistance in the vicar’s case, if he thinks it will help, but he will be no bloody use to us in a capital murder. He will just get in the way.’

  ‘Oh, and by the way,’ he added, after a brief pause, ‘don’t expect Martin at the committal. He will expect you to handle that. Sort of thing juniors ought to do. You will understand when you meet him.’

  16

  They walked together without a word along the narrow path that led from the main door of the George, through the graveyard in front of All Saints Church, where Singer and Little joined them, in the shadow of two large oak trees, into Market Square; then across the square to the fine eighteenth-century Town Hall, where the County magistrates sat. As they entered the small entrance hall, Ben saw Gareth Morgan-Davies leaning against the wall to his right, in conversation with a man he did not know. A black-gowned usher, tall and dignified, with short silver hair and matching eyebrows, carrying a clip-board and a pencil, greeted them.

  ‘You will be the defence side, then?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘The prosecution is already here, Mr Morgan-Davies, of Counsel. And you are the Reverend Mr Little, are you, sir?’

  Little nodded reluctantly. The usher made a careful note on the sheet of paper he had on his clipboard.

  ‘My name is Barratt Davis, Bourne & Davis, with John Singer, solicitors for the defence. Mr Ben Schroeder, of Counsel, and my assistant, Jess Farrar.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Another careful note.

  ‘The magistrates will be sitting in Court 2 today, sir. That’s just through that door to your right. The grand jury room, where they sit most of the time, is upstairs, but we are expecting quite a crowd today, including some gentlemen of the press, so they decided they wanted more room. The clerk today is Mr Philip Eaves, local solicitor, very good on the law, so I’m told. There’s a conference room through the door on your far left, which you will have all to yourselves today. It’s right next to the cells, but don’t let that bother you. It’s not a big building, so we have to make use of the space. My name is Paul, by the way. Let me know if you have any questions.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ben replied. He turned to Barratt. ‘Why don’t you take Mr Little and Mr Singer to the conference room. I’m going to have a quick word with the prosecution.’

  Barratt nodded. He shepherded his charges to his left and through a low wooden door.

  Gareth seemed disconcertingly cheerful.

  ‘Ah, good morning, Ben. Do you know Philip Martineau, prosecuting solicitor for the County? Philip, this is Ben Schroeder, who is defending Mr Little.’

  Ben shook Martineau’s hand.

  ‘Let’s have a word,’ Gareth said, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder and taking him aside, while Martineau sat and busied himself with a file. They both leaned against the wall.

  ‘Have you thought about advising your chap to plead?’ Gareth asked. ‘He could ask to be dealt with by the justices today, instead of going up to Quarter Sessions. It’s his first offence, and the prosecution are prepared to tell the court that the boy is making a full recovery, and has probably suffered no lasting harm. I doubt they would send him inside: especially as his plea would spare Raymond the ordeal of giving evidence.’

  Ben shook his head.

  ‘Have you seen what the local papers have been saying about this case? They might feel they have no choice but
to send him inside. Besides, Gareth, he’s a clergyman. It’s not just a question of whether he goes inside. He will be defrocked, or whatever they call it. His life will be over.’

  ‘His life as a clergyman is over already,’ Gareth said. ‘This will follow him around for the rest of his life. There’s no point in making things worse than they already are. Martineau says the boy is going to be a good witness. A jury is going to believe him.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Ben replied. ‘And even if they do, the judge will have to tell them that it is dangerous to convict in the absence of corroboration. It’s his word against Raymond’s, and he is a vicar.’ He smiled. ‘It’s a case for the Morgan-Davies credibility index, isn’t it? Vicars win against most other witnesses – anyone except bishops, nuns and…’

  ‘And War widows. I knew I shouldn’t have taught you so bloody much,’ Gareth returned the smile. ‘Now it all gets turned back on me and used against me, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Ben replied.

  Gareth nodded, smiling.

  ‘Well, that’s fair enough, I suppose, and you have a point,’ he conceded. ‘But, in fairness, I should warn you that you are not completely up to date with the evidence. We do actually have some corroboration, as it happens.’

  Ben was taken aback. He had asked Little in detail about the events of the evening, and had detected nothing which offered the prosecution case support from a source other than Raymond. Without such evidence, the case was legally uncorroborated.

  ‘I’m sure you will call the organist, Sharples,’ Ben ventured tentatively. ‘That puts Raymond in church on the Wednesday evening, perhaps even in the vestry. But it doesn’t implicate Little in the commission of an offence.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ Gareth replied. ‘But that wasn’t what I was referring to.’

  ‘So…?’

  Gareth turned his head away slightly.

  ‘I’m sure your client knows all about it,’ he said, ‘and he will hear it once we start the evidence. So, what’s it to be? Last chance.’