Find Them Dead

97 Tuesday 28 May

Meg, fighting a yawn, sat along with her fellow jurors and everyone else in Court 3. She had so badly wanted — needed — to be rested and fresh for today. Ready for the biggest and most terrifying challenge she’d ever had to face in her life. Instead she felt terrible, her eyes raw, her brain a porridge of leaden, tangled thoughts.

A bag of nerves over the long weekend, which seemed longer than ever, she’d wandered around the house like a zombie, spending the entire three days alone, despite invitations from friends. She didn’t want to see anyone, that way she could avoid difficult conversations. She’d tried to watch Twelve Angry Men again, but her mind kept drifting. Thinking about Laura — and dear Cassie. What had happened to them? Were they safe? How could she trust her caller? What if they were already — God forbid...

She pushed that thought away, just as she had done repeatedly since the nightmare began. They weren’t dead. Her captor knew full well that if she succeeded in delivering the right verdict and then she found out something had happened to Laura, she would go straight to the police and tell them everything. There would then be a retrial, and from the research she had done, in cases where there was a real danger of tampering with a jury, the case could be heard by a judge alone, without a jury. In that scenario, from what evidence she had heard against Gready, he wouldn’t stand a cat in hell’s chance of going free.

She’d excused herself from meeting Alison on Saturday, mindful they would be watched and their every word recorded, and she hadn’t felt up to attending the barbecue at their house on Sunday. A couple of other friends had phoned to see how she was, and she hadn’t picked up, letting their calls go to voicemail.

Throughout the weekend she had repeatedly tried to contact Laura and Cassie. With no response. A late glass of wine on Saturday night had helped her fall asleep, but only to wake at 2 a.m. with a dull stomach ache, pins and needles in her fingers, and her scalp feeling like a rat was clawing its way over it.

Meg had felt briefly better after a long run along the seafront on Monday morning, but the endorphin high had long worn off by the afternoon. She had planned to do a very early run this morning, too, but she’d felt too tired when the alarm went off. Now she was having to go into battle to save her daughter’s life after another totally sleepless night. And it seemed, from the talk in the jury room just now, that most of the jurors had already made up their minds to convict.

Addressing the jury, the judge went straight into his summing-up, walking them through detail by detail of the evidence they had heard from both sides. He took particular care to refer back to his earlier caveat about Michael Starr’s motives when recounting all the points that Starr had made against Gready, and reminded the jury again that he had already pleaded guilty to all of the counts that Gready faced.

Meg made copious notes, underlining all the points that would be most helpful to her, glad for the seeming impartiality of the judge. But then, to her dismay, his tone suddenly changed.

‘You have heard from the defence QC about the respectability of her client. That Mr Gready is a school governor, a tireless supporter of local charities, a good and well-respected employer, a modest man who lives a modest life, one unencumbered by the trappings of vast wealth. In every respect he appears a thoroughly decent man, worthy of every citizen’s respect. One could indeed say he is a model citizen! All these qualities are to be admired.’

He went on. ‘Members of the jury, I’m sure you have indeed been impressed by all the fine work the defendant and his wife have done. And you have been made aware of the relatively modest lives they have lived. But before I send you to your deliberations, there are a couple of thoughts I would like to leave you with, which I feel are relevant.’

Meg’s heart was sinking.

‘You need to consider your own life experience and that things are not always as they appear. It is up to you to decide whether the defendant’s good character makes it less likely that he committed the offence. My point is, very simply, that not all crime overlords, in real life or in fiction, fit the stereotype picture that has been painted to you by the defence. This is not to cast aspersions on the defendant, in any way, but you should in your deliberations consider only the facts of the evidence presented to you, rather than be influenced by the fact that Mr Gready appears to be a jolly good guy.’

Shortly after 1 p.m. Jupp finished his summing-up. ‘Members of the jury, you have heard the evidence of both sides. It is now your job to retire to the jury room and debate all the facts that you have heard during the course of this trial and to reach a verdict. Is the defendant guilty or not guilty on the matters for which he is accused? It is my view, from all that we have heard over the past weeks, that there is sufficient evidence for you to make an informed decision. I will now leave it to your sound judgement.’