“You’re doing well.” He squeezes his shoulder. “Just the final push now!”
“I didn’t mean to start bawling!” He tries to smile. “Do you think it’ll have done any good?”
“It’s not a bad thing. It shows the jury what you’ve been through. Hang in there mate. It’s nearly over.”
Chapter Forty Four
Margaret stands. “Mr Jackson, are you alright?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good. We will begin then. “How many hours a day did you leave your wife on her own?”
“I had to go to work,” Paul replies. “Besides she worked a few hours each day as well.”
“But you never exactly rushed home after work, did you?”
“Sometimes I had to work late, or I’d maybe have something to do on the way home…”
“Like a visit to the pub?”
“Occasionally.” Paul stares at her.
“I would suggest it was more than occasional. In fact,” Margaret’s voice rises up a gear, “I’d suggest you left the house as often as you could.”
“That’s not true. I didn’t go out much.”
“Mr Jackson.” Her mouth is set in a thin line. “You were demonstrating conduct such as that of a single man. Coming and going as you pleased. It’s no wonder your wife was suffering.”
Paul tries not to be beaten back by her. “I did my best to reassure her. And I took Emily off as often as I could, to give her a break and some time on her own.”
“But that’s not what was needed! Your little daddy and daughter unit was making her more unhappy. Could you not see how isolated she felt?”
“We tried to include her,” he states, miserably. “She wasn’t interested.”
Her voice quietens. “I can imagine though, that it must have been difficult for you at times.”
“It was.” He is baffled at her sudden softening of attitude. What is she up to?
“You must have been demoralised at her exertion over your financial affairs?”
“It was awkward sometimes, but I had got used to it.”
“But it wasn’t just your finances was it?” Margaret steps away from him. “She was going through your phone as well?”
“Yes.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Awful. I’d never done anything for her not to trust me.”
“I can imagine it must have made you angry. I understand from your statement that she put herself in charge of your e-mails and post as well?”
“Yes.” Paul holds eye contact with Margaret.
“You must have felt awfully emasculated?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugs. “But I wanted to keep the peace.”
“I expect you’d have done anything, to be in control of your own life.”
“Yes. But I hoped things would improve in time.”
“But they didn’t, did they? Things were becoming worse. You must have been anxious about the effect on your daughter.”
“I tried taking Michelle to the doctor.”
Margaret doesn’t acknowledge this, she just continues. “And then, you go to the trouble of taking time out for a family holiday. And that’s ruined with drinking and jealous behaviour.”
“We’d only been there two days.”
“You must have been frustrated.”
“A little.”
“And angry.”
“At times.”
“If it had just been you and Emily there, things would be different.” Margaret’s tone was gentler. “Or if you’d gone with people whose company you enjoy and seek out. You knew that. If only your wife was out of the picture.”
“I never considered that. At all.” Reverse psychology.
“Any man would snap given the pressure you were under.”
“I didn’t snap. It wasn’t easy.”
“But Paul, your wife was on and on at you. You were powerless to change anything. She’d been drinking and you’d have wanted to shut her up. Anybody would have. People can only take so much. No wonder you…”
“No!”
“No one is saying you planned anything. Maybe it was self-defence … we’ve all heard how she treated you!”
“I didn’t kill her!” This woman is doing his head in.
“Your prints were on the knife and her blood was all over your clothes, not to mention the broken glass everywhere and the fact that you’d been heard rowing.”
“The blood on Paul’s clothes,” Simon cuts in, “was proven to have occurred because of him comforting Michelle afterwards. We have heard from an expert in the matter. I object to this goading line of questioning.”
“I’ve nearly done,” Margaret retorts. “And I’m merely assembling the facts.”
“I didn’t kill my wife.” Hot tears are leaking from Paul’s eyes.
“No further questions.”
All attention is on Paul as he fights to gain self-control. He looks down at his feet and wills the whole thing to be over. If only he could protest his innocence with entire conviction. The memory, he has read, often blanks out trauma. Maybe this is what has happened.
“We shall break for lunch,” Judge Lakin addresses the court after a few moments. In this time, I, along with my colleagues for the defence and prosecution, will finalise our closing comments. These will be heard when we recommence proceedings at 2pm. The jury will then be given the opportunity to retire and consider their verdict.”
“All rise.”
Everyone springs up, like a collection of jack-in-a-boxes.
Chapter Forty Five
Margaret loosens her collar as she speaks. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. You will shortly be asked to decide on the verdict in this case. As you consider the testimonies you have heard, please do not lose sight of Michelle Jackson, who does not have the chance to testify for herself.” She pauses for a moment.
“The witnesses in the prosecution have acted as her voice. We have heard about a devoted wife and mother, albeit lonely, a woman plagued by insecurity. Her work colleague speaks of her regret at not being able to assist in what was, seemingly, a situation of domestic abuse.” Margaret gestures towards Monica.
“This situation has been collaborated by the police, who have been required to attend on Michelle’s behalf, and by a neighbour who was compelled to overhear lengthy arguments between the couple.
Members of the jury, it is your responsibility today, to decide whether Mr Jackson killed his wife in a premeditated attempt to gain back the unchallenged life of a single man. Perhaps there was another woman involved. Or perhaps not. We do not know whether this was the case.
Or you may decide he killed in a sudden fit of temper.” Margaret pauses again, sweeps her gaze over the jury members, her expression indicating that is the option she is campaigning for. “Of course, as a couple, they were under a tremendous amount of pressure and everyone has a breaking point.
However, you may decide there was blame on both sides and that Mr Jackson killed his wife in an act of diminished responsibility. The judge, in his final direction to you, will offer further guidance on this.
Finally, I would like to remind you of another factor, central to this case. A vulnerable child forced to endure and witness events in her brief years; that no person should be subjected to in an entire lifetime. A little girl who has had her mother taken from her. As you are considering your verdict, remember she too, deserves justice.”
Paul tries to read some of the expressions of the jurors. No one is giving anything away.
He watches as Margaret snaps her notebook shut and looks expectantly at Simon.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Whilst I agree it is of the upmost tragedy that Michelle Jackson cannot be here to defend herself today; the choice you must make is not one of how her husband supposedly killed her, but whether she died at his hands, or at her own.” His hands move in parallel in the air from one side of his body to the other, depicting the supposed finality of these two options.
&n
bsp; C’mon Simon, Paul urges silently. Do your stuff.
“We have heard from several witnesses over the course of this trial, some who are friends or family of the couple, and some who tried to assist them in various ways, as they battled against the destructive force of their marriage. One thing, however, is clear. Michelle Jackson, a confirmed self-harmer, was in great pain emotionally and mentally at the time of her death. Fuelled by drink and the ever-present fear of abandonment, she believed, at that moment, that she had nothing to live for.
Paul Jackson is a man who worked hard for his family. There were efforts by him to gain medical help for Michelle and he repeatedly cajoled her about her excessive alcohol intake, in fact he did all he could to keep things calm at home.
Finally, he attempted to take her away from the usual routine, on holiday to spend some quality time as a couple and as a family.
I urge you, in your deliberations, to see this heart-breaking situation for what it is. A suicide. An appalling waste of a young life.
In my mind, Paul Jackson’s only mistake was not realising how low his wife had sunk.
He himself, was a victim. As you have heard, men are not only the perpetrators of domestic abuse. In this case, both he, and his daughter were suffering at the hands of Michelle. I only hope that the press interest in this case, serves to raise the profile of this issue. I further hope it persuades other male victims who are enduring the same misery, to speak out.
There are many kinds of domestic abuse, as you all probably know, and, in my mind, Paul Jackson has endured most of them to some degree; physical, emotional, verbal, financial and sexual.
I will conclude with this important point. The lack of forensic evidence against Paul Jackson. Yes, his DNA was all over the crime scene and yes, the blood of his wife was all over him. That has been explained, and there is no denying that he was there. What is missing is forensic evidence that confirms he perpetrated the act of violence against his wife. The only evidence that points to that is circumstantial. He sweeps his eyes over each member of the jury. “I would therefore urge you to find Paul Jackson not guilty of murder or manslaughter!”
“Thank you both.” Judge Lakin glances towards the clock, then down at his notes. “Members of the jury,” he says after a few moments. “It is time for you to retire and consider the evidence you have heard since the start of this trial.
You will have to decide unanimously, beyond reasonable doubt, whether Paul Jackson is guilty or not guilty of fatally stabbing his wife, Michelle Jackson.
If you decide Paul Jackson did, indeed, deliver the fatal wound to his wife, you then have to decide on the context in which the attack was instigated.” He pauses for a moment to allow the jurors, who are scribbling furiously on their notepads, to catch up with him.
“You may be of the opinion he planned to kill his wife, before carrying out the act.” Here, his speech slows. “This decision would carry a severe penalty and therefore should not be reached lightly. You would find the defendant guilty of murder.”
Paul shrinks into himself at this prospect. It is too horrendous to envisage. Yet he can hear the word guilty resounding inside his mind. Although he can scarcely admit it, he has already prepared himself for this outcome. His head is fuzzy and there is a pain behind one of his eyes.
“You may decide he did fatally stab his wife, but the act was not one of premeditation.” He pauses again. “You may here conclude, as the prosecution have already suggested, that Paul Jackson reached the limits of his endurance within a hopelessly unhappy marriage and lashed out against his wife in a fit of temper. If you reach this decision, you will find him guilty of voluntary manslaughter. This, while serious, carries a lesser penalty than the aforementioned indictment of murder.” The judge stops again for several moments. Paul is hit by the overwhelming threat of a panic attack.
“Or you could find Paul Jackson guilty of involuntary manslaughter. You would have to agree on the opinion that the defendant was mentally out of control and unable to realise the consequences of his actions. We have heard of the alleged strain he was under. You must decide whether his mental functions were impaired enough to carry out the act for which he is standing trial.”
Paul clenches his fists in his lap, his fingernails digging into his palms whilst he worries the judge is trying to lead the jury toward this verdict.
“Your other option is to find the defendant not guilty of any indictment. This is not a decision that should be reached easily either. You must remember a young mother is dead. If she was unlawfully killed, it is your job to ensure she, and her daughter, receive justice. If you collaboratively find Paul Jackson not guilty, you would have to believe Michelle Jackson, as the defence allege, killed herself, regardless of whether or not she set out to.
As we heard from Mr Falen, the surgeon earlier, the death resulted from lacerations to the chest caused by the knife. We know the cause of death. There was no one else near this incident, nor were there any witnesses to it, therefore the Coroner was forced to reach an inconclusive verdict. We also have a lack of forensic evidence against Paul Jackson, as we’ve heard from the defence barrister. From the forensic report you have in your possession, you can see Paul Jackson’s finger prints on the murder weapon, as well as his clothing being covered in his wife’s blood, but it is acknowledged he had been using the knife to chop food and the blood staining was caused as he comforted his injured wife.
It is your job to bring this situation to a conclusion. You have, as I am sure you will be aware, an important role, each one of you. You must discuss each option thoroughly and take as much time as you need for your deliberations.
In closing, I will reiterate the four options: the indictment of murder, the indictment of voluntary manslaughter, the indictment of involuntary manslaughter or not guilty of any indictment.”
That is it. Four choices. Paul needs some respite from the stifling room. His shortness of breath has given way to rising sickness.
“Is one of you willing to put yourself forward as the spokesperson for when you return with your verdict?”
The members look around at each other, then one or two arms begin to be hesitantly raised.
“You,” he asserts, pointing at Helen Wentworth, who has not raised her arm. Her already tiny form shrivels under the scrutiny. “I will now ask you to retire and consider your verdict in this matter. You will speak to no one outside the jury about this case.”
They obediently file out of the room. His life is literally in their hands. The court stands as the judge disappears through a curtained exit. David gives a thumbs up to Paul who smiles weakly back. The dock officers are approaching, ready to lead him back to the underground cell to await the departure of the return prison van, unless the jury comes to a verdict in super quick time. Paul can’t do anything other than hope now.
Chapter Forty Six
Paul’s belongings sit in two clear polythene Her Majesty’s prison bags at his feet, as he chews an apple in his cell. They travel back and forth to court with him each day, in case he is released. He hopes he is not tempting fate by doing this. It is not as though he will be keeping any of it, it will all be binned. It is tainted with the stench of prison. Disinfectant, damp and despair. There is no way he will want to set eyes on these things again if he is acquitted. The possibility is something he hardly dares to imagine. He takes in the barren walls of the cell for what he prays is the last time. Never having put any pictures up, the area around his bed is as stark as he found it. To personalise it would have been an acceptance of his circumstances.
“It must be like groundhog day each morning for you.” Stephen grins at him as he comes out of the toilet. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you mate.”
“Thanks. I hope to God I won’t come back today, but really I think it’ll be after the weekend before anything happens.”
“You’re a decent bloke,” Stephen picks up an apple. “You shouldn’t be in here. Not like me. Look at what I’ve done…”
“Anyone can make a mistake. You aren’t your actions. Anyone can have a moment of…”
“C’mon Jackson, no time for tearful goodbyes.” Paul looks up to see Officer Smith jangling his keys at the door. “Van’s waiting.”
“What about the stuff I had removed from me when I was remanded?” He asks the officer who is processing his transfer to court. “If I’m released, I’m going to need my keys and wallet.”
“The personal effects you were arrested with are going backwards and forwards in the court van, Jackson. You’ll be given them if you’re released.”
Paul walks towards the fingerprint scanner to register himself out.
As the van makes its way down the motorway, Paul dares to believe, this might be his final journey as an incarcerated man. If the worst happens, you’ll have a strong case for appeal. John’s words reverberate in his head. They have been doing that all night. Paul knows John has been trying to prepare him for the worst to happen. He couldn’t stand it. He will crack up if he must go back. He’s been punished enough. What for, he still can’t be certain.
“Did you manage any sleep last night?” John grins as the cell door clangs behind him. “I didn’t.”
“Not a lot,” Paul tries to smile back. “I’m bloody shitting myself, to be fair.”
“Everyone’s here for you, you know.” He sits down on the slab beside Paul. “But obviously, it all rests on the jury. Personally, I think our case was far stronger than that of the prosecution; as does Simon. I think it’s the lack of concrete forensics that’ll see you acquitted. Like Simon and even the judge have said, all the evidence is circumstantial. But as you know yourself, these things can go either way. And they must all agree.”
“What if they don’t? What if say, only seven or eight of them think I didn’t do it?”
The Man Behind Closed Doors Page 25
