The QC looked at him for a moment, observing his body movements that he found a little odd considering the circumstances. Unlike many other clients that he had represented, Harry seemed to have this habit of locking his fingers behind his head and rocking backwards on the rear legs of his chair. In addition, he alternated this movement by occasionally wrapping his arms around his body as if he was reassuring himself that all was or, would be well. Finally, dismissing this situation from his mind, he resumed his task, “all right Harry, he said but first of all you listen to me. I don’t have to take this brief if I don’t want to, so just to make sure that we don’t get off on the wrong foot again, I want to know quite a lot about you pretty quickly and, I need to confirm some facts. Your name is Harry Marcus Thompson and you live with your foster-mother at Eastham Cottages, Eastham Rake, South Wirral, Merseyside. I also understand that you are twenty six years of age and that you are a bachelor.”
Harry confirmed these facts thus allowing the QC to continue, “You have been charged with the murders of Diane Wilson and, Angela Clarkson. Did you kill either one or both of these women?”
Harry immediately answered, “No,” in a very firm and positive voice...
“On the first charge, Miss Wilson, I understand she was your girlfriend and that you had been going out together for some time?” Harry nodded now in assent allowing the questioning to continue.
“Did you have regular sex with this woman and was this straight sex or did you indulge in any games or fantasies such as role play or, anything kinky?” Again the answer was negative allowing the barrister to continue.
“Whenever you had sex with Miss Wilson was she satisfied or did she want more? Did she ever complain about your performance and did she ever refuse your advances?”
Harry was getting annoyed now and, it was beginning to show as he couldn’t see, let alone comprehend, where this line of questioning was going and he responded fiercely, “This is none of your business. We were just a happy, normal courting couple having sex whenever we felt like it. What we did or, how often we did it is no possible concern of yours.”
Leaving these issues aside, Trevor Bailey tried a different approach. “All right then Harry consider this. Diane Wilson had a vicious temper, she flew into a terrible rage, perhaps she hit you and, before you knew it you had strangled her with her own tights. Obviously you were out of your mind at the time and you didn’t know what you were doing. Afterwards, when you saw what you’d done you knew that somehow you would have to dispose of the body.”
Harry was on his feet now. He was really annoyed with this man Bailey after all what did he know and, by what right did he consider that he could assume so much, “Bollocks,” he exploded “that’s a load of balls, I didn’t strangle her. We had sex, we had an argument and she left.”
Trevor Bailey let him finish before he began again as though nothing had happened. “Angela Clarkson, why did you kill her?” Although he wanted to follow up immediately with additional questions, Harry, didn’t give him the chance.
He was still on his feet and decidedly edgy, “Look and listen to me, this is getting out of hand. I never saw the woman, I never had sex with her and I don’t associate with prostitutes.”
“How did you know she was a prostitute?” Countered the lawyer seizing his opportunity to press home another point. “Did she tell you?”
Harry was growing tired with this line of questioning adopted by Trevor Bailey, barrister or not and he was beginning to take a distinct dislike to him as he retorted,
“I never knew the woman, I never saw her and the rest. Well it must have been something I read in the papers.”
However Trevor Bailey did understand and his tone became a little more sympathetic, “Mr. Thompson sorry, Harry, I’m here to help you and, I am trying really hard to do just that. What you’re going through now is nothing compared to the ordeal you will face in court especially under cross-examination. From my point of view as your barrister, responsible for your defence, I don’t have an awful lot to go on. Let me tell you how the case for the prosecution is coming along. First of all, they have the body of your girlfriend from which they have a DNA sample that matches yours. They know you were with her the night she died. They know you both quarrelled and, as far as any other person is concerned, you were the last person to see her alive. Regarding Angela Clarkson, all right there’s no DNA but, Harry, this is what the police have. She is found in close proximity to your home. All right that’s entirely coincidental but she is also strangled with her own tights, another coincidence. The tights are knotted in the same way indicating the same person who killed Diane Wilson carried out this crime. Another coincidence. Her body is found very close to where you walk with your dog and where you say you used to walk with Diane Wilson. Now I know many visitors walk in and around the vicinity but hardly any of those people would be aware of the ditch hidden beyond the fence but a local lad would and you are a local lad. As if this is not enough, close to the spot where the body was lying and, before the discovery of it, you claim to have found a watch that you hand in at the local police station. Harry, believe me, I really would like to help you but, before I can even begin to try, I have to believe in something about you. To be absolutely precise at this very moment I myself, would have to doubt your innocence. Now, if you were to agree to undergo psychiatric tests to determine your sanity, and, we can show the jury that you were unbalanced or mentally disturbed at the time, then I’m sure I can at least get the charges lessened. Afterwards and once the proceedings are out of the way, we can arrange for you to receive all the help you need and I’m sure you’ll find that a much better option to a life in prison.”
Harry Thompson had sought the comfort and support of his chair in the face of this onslaught as it had taken him completely by surprise. Now he wanted to stand up and hit him, barrister or not. He felt that, if he could get close enough he would probably kill him. What on earth was he saying, me… Harry Thompson insane? plead insanity? As he rose from the chair he felt his legs begin to buckle and, unable to take the strain, he sank slowly to the floor shouting, “Get out, get out, Michael get this bastard out of here.”
Harry had recovered a little when the solicitor returned, and there was an uneasy silence for a moment or two as neither person spoke and with neither man looking the other directly in the eye, Harry knew that he had to speak and that he had to ask the big question now, before the moment was lost. “Michael,” he said, “Don’t mess about, tell me honestly what’s your own frank assessment of my position?” “Harry,” he replied, “although I’ve only known you since this thing started, I can’t in all sincerity believe you’re guilty but, now that you’ve asked me, I must be honest and frank with you. At the moment we haven’t got a defence and you’ve probably just lost the best brief I could get you under the present circumstances. All I can do is promise you I’ll do my utmost for you on each and every charge they throw at you.”
With that, Michael Mulrooney departed leaving Harry alone with his rambling thoughts and deeply troubled mind. His brain desperately searching for one clue or any scrap of information which might provide the key with which he could extricate himself from the unsavoury position in which he found himself. But there was to be no such relief forthcoming and, when he returned to his room on the remand block, he found that he had a new neighbour. Royston Chambers.
Meanwhile urgent enquiries had indeed been made within government circles, and it was confirmed by the Chief Constable of Merseyside that Timothy Harris had been asked some routine questions in connection with initial enquiries about Angela Clarkson. This, and subsequent enquiries, showed he had been able to give a more than satisfactory account of his movements as a result of which, as far as the police were concerned, he would not be of any further assistance to their enquiries. The statement also pointed out that a number of people who had been in the hotel or the vicinity, had come forward in response to an appeal by the police and they too had been eliminated. The fo
llowing afternoon, the Prime Minister was able to announce to a packed House of government supporters that he was more than satisfied that no member of his government had been involved in any way with Angela Clarkson or with her tragic demise. This announcement was greeted with loud murmurings from the government benches together with a tremendous waving of order papers. The Prime Minister then asked the Honourable Member for Knutsford if he was satisfied with the reply to which, there were cries of “Shame” and “Apologise” from the benches. However, whilst Dennis Panter acknowledged the reply given there wasn’t any way he would even consider an apology let alone offer one. He was quite content to wait until his source made contact again, and, he was sure he wouldn’t have to wait very long.
As always there’s no smoke without fire and this was a story that refused to lie down and die. The curiosity of the press had been aroused and, together with that of the public, it needed to be satisfied. Behind the scenes moles were digging. Digging into every sordid little detail they could get their hands on in an effort to discover the identity of the unnamed member. No. 1 on their rapidly shortening list was Timothy Harris. Later that evening, Paula Harris picked up the telephone and dialled the number of a mobile telephone. It was the number she always rang whenever she wished to contact Quentin Russell. After two short rings she heard his soft voice at the other end of the line saying, “Russell here.” In answer to this she said one word, “Rose” and contact was established. She began with an apology because she felt Quentin would be angry or annoyed over recent happenings. Nothing further had resulted from their last contact and she was relieved when he told her it wasn’t necessary as both he, and his editor, felt there was still quite a lot of mileage in the story anyway. She assured him she genuinely believed there was some truth behind the question which had been asked in the House and that she would contact him again whenever she found out anything which could be relevant. With the connection broken, Quentin Russell relaxed allowing himself a large smile. He could afford to smile now because he knew he was on a winner and that, eventually, it might prove to be the biggest coup of his journalistic career. It was patently obvious to him now that there was more to follow in this saga otherwise Rose would not have telephoned. She would have let the issue die a natural death and, because she hadn’t, that meant she intended to do some digging of her own. It also meant that his other long-held suspicions concerning the identity of his source, Rose, built up over the years from previous calls, were being confirmed. He resolved to put the matter to the test the next time they spoke.
Three days had passed and Michael Mulrooney was on his way to Walton Gaol for another meeting with Harry Thompson. On this occasion, he found he had to concentrate on his driving as he found himself being continually distracted by the thoughts and issues which dominated his mind and, made his journey so essential. As he entered the interview room his face still bore traces of a worried frown that told Harry that all was not well. With the briefest of handshakes, the lawyer came straight to the point. “Listen Harry, I’ve just spoken to Trevor Bailey.” Straight away he could see his that client was becoming visibly annoyed but he made no effort to stop. “It appears the police have got some more evidence in the Clarkson case. They are now saying that one of her associates has come forward and that she is prepared to swear on oath she saw Angela Clarkson wearing the watch you claimed to have found.”
“Christ almighty”, Harry groaned. It was like a bullet in the brain; he brought his fist crashing down onto the desk in front of him and in sheer desperation, and pounded it over and over as he wondered where or when this nightmare would end.
After a few moments, he realised his solicitor was speaking softly and quietly to him.
“Listen Harry, Trevor Bailey told me to tell you it’s still not too late to change your mind about your decision to fire him. In view of this latest information he is urging you to reconsider your position, plead guilty through insanity and he will defend you.”
Harry was visibly shaking as he looked up at his lawyer. Through clenched teeth, with as much hatred and venom as he could muster he spat out his reply “Michael, you can tell that bastard to piss off. Tell him I don’t need him and, if the worst comes to the worst, I’ll defend myself...”
Seven days later, Harry Thompson met his solicitor again. He was in court for another remand hearing and, he was still without the services of a QC. Although he wasn’t aware of it himself, within the fraternity of Barristers in Chambers, nobody really wanted his case. Everybody saw it as almost hopeless plus, in their eyes, he had committed a cardinal sin when he sacked one of the few barristers prepared to take it on. Before the Hearing began Michael was waiting for him. He told him he would have a visitor later that day and he would arrange for him to meet Irene Yarwood QC. Irene Yarwood, after gaining her first class honours degree at Chester University had successfully completed her pupillage and she had been offered a junior partnership in chambers with a company called Krief Krief and Isaacs. Over a number of years, she had gained a reputation for taking on cases considered hopeless as well as anything else she could get her hands on. She refused to consider any implications on her career if she lost a case as in her opinion all that mattered was doing her utmost and the very level best for all her clients. Now that she had just taken silk, Michael considered her to be the best brief available and he urged Harry to talk to her in order to see whether or not she would agree to take the case. As the only other alternative was to accept a lawyer appointed by the Bar Council and that there really wasn’t any other viable option, Harry readily agreed to this and arrangements were made for a meeting at Walton later that day.”
He was already waiting in the interview room when she arrived, accompanied by his solicitor. Harry began to warm to her straight away. She was a small slim woman, no more than 5’ 2” with jet black hair. She had big blue eyes, which sparkled and lit up her rounded face whenever she smiled. She was smiling now as they were introduced and shook hands and Harry couldn’t help thinking that she looked nothing like a barrister, least of all one who was building up such a fearsome reputation.
As she spoke, Harry was acutely aware she was studying him intently, watching all of his body language and movements especially the way he sat, gently rocking himself on his chair with the front legs off the ground whilst looking at the ceiling. “Now then, Harry, we seem to have got ourselves into a proper mess haven’t we? Well, let me say before we begin I can’t promise you anything I can’t realistically deliver. At this stage, I wouldn’t dream of trying to falsely raise your hopes or your spirits, by giving you words of comfort such as I’m going to get you off. Far from it, I’ll defend you to the best of my ability and that’s it. In other words Harry, what you see now is what you get.”
“Over the next few weeks I’m going to have to get to know all about you. I’ll ask you questions you’ve probably been asked many times before and I’m telling you now I’ll ask you questions that will upset you and cause you considerable pain and, possibly embarrassment. You have to understand that, when I get you in court I want you to be absolutely word perfect. I certainly won’t expect to see or hear you floundering especially under cross examination by the opposition when they ask you awkward or embarrassing questions in an effort to upset or discredit you. I can assure you that with my help when we get to court, you’ll be able to stand up to everything they throw at you and you’ll answer all their questions calmly and without emotion. Remember this, I don’t want you breaking down and, feeling sorry for yourself. After all nobody outside of this room feels sorry for you. Before I go today I want to hear your story and I want to hear everything. You must leave nothing out. If you hit your girlfriend during a quarrel, whether she hit you, I want to know everything. When I put my questions to you I want an answer from you each and every time. Whenever I swear at you which I shall, you will not retaliate or get angry. When I talk to you and ask questions about your sex life and your sexual activities, I’ll use all the adjectives and phras
es known to man that I can get my hands on. Remember, all the people in the courtroom have heard it all before. They’re familiar with all the gutter terminology and the prosecution will not be afraid of using any trick in the book when you’re in the witness box whereas, you, Harry Thompson, will be sailing in uncharted waters.
One and a half hours later, after hearing his story from the beginning of his ordeal, during which time she made copious notes, Irene Yarwood, accompanied by his solicitor, left him alone in the remand centre to contemplate and reflect upon life’s most recent chain of events.
In the capital city, the pot continued to simmer. The rumours were growing ever more persistent. With each passing day, there were calls for an unnamed Member to make a statement to the House and to offer the House an apology for misleading its Members on the subject of Angela Clarkson. Each time the subject came up, the Prime Minister would be on his feet, referring to his earlier reply given some weeks ago. Then he would go on to say that if the persons behind the rumours couldn’t offer any concrete evidence or substantiate the allegations, then they should put up or shut up. Alternatively he assured the House that if the allegations were true then he would ask the person involved to resign. In a concerted attempt to put an end to the matter, the Prime Minister suggested that Dennis Panter, the Member for Knutsford, should invite his journalistic source to persuade his editor to name the Member involved, bearing in mind that if they did, the Honourable Member involved would probably respond with the issue of a writ for libel. Obviously, the Prime Minister had no way of knowing at this stage if that latter part of the statement was true. His reasoning was simply that if the MP was named and shamed by the press then he would either have to sue or he would have to resign. In effect, it would save him the job of sacking him or getting rid of him whenever he carried out his next cabinet reshuffle. Whilst the Prime Minister felt more than comfortable with these exchanges, at least one member of the House felt distinctly uneasy and, each time the subject was mentioned, he cringed inwardly knowing his whole life was balancing on a knife edge. He was also very much aware that, whilst he was safe for the time being, he knew it would only last as long as he had the protection of his leader.
Beyond Innocence Page 8
