A Mind to Kill

Chapter Fifteen

Jeremy Hall hadn’t expected the gauntlet of cameramen through whom he had to pass for the hearing and did so unsure if their jostled presence was defiance or attempted intimidation. He didn’t like the way they kept shouting, ‘Here, Jeremy… this way, Jeremy,’ as if he knew them. He walked staring straight ahead, refusing to look in any direction. Humphrey Perry was in the corridor, with Johnson. Both men looked isolated and uncomfortable, like stowaways stranded on a desert island. The newspaper group had at least doubled from that of the hospital forecourt that morning. There was a lot of noise and some laughter, a clublike camaraderie.

Perry said, ‘I’ve heard what happened with the child. It sounds awful.’

‘It was worse than awful.’

‘Answering a lot of uncertainty, though.’

‘Not according to Mason it hasn’t.’

The concentration from further along the corridor was obvious. The laughter had seemed to increase at Hall’s arrival. Perry said, ‘You’ve thrown a bomb in the beehive here. And we couldn’t have got a worse judge than Jarvis. He’ll know whose chambers you’re from.’

‘Can’t be helped.’

‘I wish it could.’

‘My tutors used to talk about the impartial objectivity of the law,’ remembered Hall.

‘Academics with no idea of the real world,’ dismissed Perry, matching the cynicism. ‘We’ve drawn a short straw, which is a problem.’ The case was getting out of hand – out of his protective hands – and he was worried.

‘A problem about which we can do nothing,’ said Hall, realistically.

‘You spoken to Feltham since you left chambers?’

‘No.’

‘Sir Richard wants a meeting, after this is over.’

‘I want to ensure Emily is OK. And that she and Annabelle get back to the house safely.’

‘I said Sir Richard wants a meeting,’ repeated the solicitor, emphatically.

‘I heard what you said. We’ll have it not just after the hearing but after I’m happy about the child and the nanny.’ He turned to Johnson. ‘You’ll take them back of course?’ It was phrased as a question although it wasn’t.

‘Of course,’ blinked the family lawyer, who had fervently decided during the journey from Hampshire how fortunate it was he hadn’t chosen criminal law.

The judge’s clerk came into the corridor, obviously startled at the number of people awaiting the hearing. Perry hurried off, to identify himself, momentarily disappearing into the melee that formed at once around the surprised court official. It seemed a long time before Perry re-emerged. He was clearly flustered, making jerky shrugging-off gestures as he returned along the corridor towards them.

‘ The Times, Mail, Sun and Express have engaged senior counsel. All QCs. Every organization is represented. God knows how many barristers. Bloody field day.’

‘Which shows how worried they are,’ pointed out Hall.

‘Not as much as I am,’ said Perry, with feeling.

‘Thanks for that expression of confidence.’

‘This is extreme.’

‘So I’ve already been told.’

They did not have to gown up for a chambers hearing, able to enter immediately there was a general summons. Sir Ivan Jarvis appeared even more surprised than his clerk by the number of barristers before him. Jarvis was a tiny, wizened man whose smallness was less obvious in a robe and wig and from the elevated bench of a Crown court. Now, on the same level as everybody else, the man appeared almost to be crouching like an enquiring squirrel behind a table the size of a car park, his head twitching from face to face. There were several spare smiles at barristers he recognized from the press side, a total lack of expression in the direction of Hall.

Hall perfectly concealed his inexperience of hearings in chambers, letting Perry lead to their expected place, any hesitation doubly covered by the confusion of seating the hiss-voiced squabbling newspaper contingent, which the clerk attempted with the arm waving urgency of an end-of-term photographer trying to assemble a disorganized class for proud parents’ end-of-term souvenir. The muttered disputes were heightened with sighed rearrangement and Jarvis said in a voice unexpectedly loud for such a small man, ‘Get along, get along. This is a simple application, not a major trial.’

‘He’s in a bad mood,’ whispered Perry, unnecessarily, from behind Hall.

It still took almost another five minutes for the media lawyers to be seated in their self-elected order of priority. Only at the very end of the chaotic process did Hall identify at the rear of the court the superintendent, Hopkins. He’d half expected Bentley and Rodgers, who looked back at him stone-faced, but not the uniformed Hampshire Constabulary inspector who had been with the council officials for the onsite child care meeting. Hall twisted more fully, frowning to Perry who said, ‘Hughes, remember? If he’d cleared the roads around the house like he should have done all this wouldn’t have been necessary. So why shouldn’t he be inconvenienced?’

‘I’ll call him,’ agreed Hall, approvingly. ‘And go and remind Bentley he’s precluded from talking about anything that has happened at the hospital and what his policewomen witnessed.’

‘Why?’ demanded Perry, soft voiced.

‘Just do it.’

Jarvis pawed some papers in front of him and said, ‘Mr Hall?’

Jeremy Hall rose, bowing his head deferentially and said, ‘I appear before you today, my lord, to press the application that has already been laid before you…’

‘… from the chambers of Sir Richard Proudfoot?’ halted the judge.

‘That is so, my lord.’

‘I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of your appearing before me?’

‘The pleasure, my lord, is mine.’ I hope but very much doubt, he thought.

‘An extreme application, Mr Hall?’

‘Reflecting an extreme situation, my lord.’

‘I hope you’ll be able to satisfy me of that.’

‘I’m confident I shall be able to.’

‘We’ll see.’

Behind him Hall heard the scuff of discomfort from Humphrey Perry.

From Hall’s left there was a continuous undertone of coughs and foot movement and paper shuffling. Jarvis looked towards it and said, ‘A matter of some considerable importance then?’

‘I would not have brought it before your lordship did I not consider it to be so.’

‘That’s encouraging to be told, Mr Hall. Hearings in chambers are not to be requested lightly.’

The movement sounds grew from the other side of the room. Hall didn’t look in their direction. ‘At the conclusion of this hearing, my lord, I am confident you will accept my invitation to find that the circumstances are anything but to be considered or judged lightly.’

‘Then we must hope, Mr Hall, that we are both satisfied, myself more than you. Proceed.’

For the first time Hall looked sideways, to see smiles of satisfaction on the faces of several opposing lawyers. They were all relaxed, languidly sure of themselves. He had sketched prompt notes for himself but mentally adjusted with the benefit of the unexpected Hampshire police officer. Within minutes – seconds it seemed – of his trying to detail the press ambush which he and Perry had personally experienced Jarvis began what progressed into a persistent barrage of interceptions, initially with a totally unnecessary query about the time of day and length of their being inconvenienced. Every time Hall halted, without a choice but without any impatience either and far more importantly never once losing his way. During the brief pause it took the clerk to carry to Jarvis their officially written Press Commission complaint, along with the bundle of letters promising money for photographs and interviews, Perry muttered, ‘He’s against us. And they know it across the room. They know they’ve won.’

The judge’s disconcerting disruptions continued when Hall offered the Hampshire officer and Geoffrey Johnson as witnesses to the harassment.

The policeman totally misconstrued the constant challenges as criticism and conveyed the impression that the mansion siege had at times been beyond police control. Hall snatched his first opportunity. ‘Yet you brought no action for breach of the peace.’

‘No, sir,’ admitted the inspector.

‘Nor for obstruction?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Why not?’

‘It was the opinion of my superior officers the case would not succeed in court.’

‘Why not?’

Had suicide been an option at that moment, Hughes would have taken it. ‘I do not know, sir. The power of the press, I assumed.’

‘You yourself were subjected to harassment, were you not?’

The man desperately sought an escape and failed. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did the media surrounding the mansion show any respect for your uniform, officer?’

‘No, sir,’ admitted the miserable policeman.

‘They were aware there would subsequently be a trial?’

‘Of course,’ frowned Hughes. ‘That’s why they were there, trying to obtain background material.’

‘So they were showing no respect for a court, either?’

The man hesitated. ‘No sir, I don’t suppose they were.’

The policeman’s report of wall-climbing and back entrance intrusion established a consecutive narrative with the solicitor’s account of that day’s sixty-mile car chase with cameramen leaning out of open windows whenever his car was momentarily brought to a standstill by lights or traffic congestion: twice, when traffic was slowed to a crawl on his way through Wandsworth, photographers had jogged alongside, taking pictures.

‘What effect did this have upon the child?’ prompted Hall, looking sideways at the other lawyers, none of whom were smiling any longer.

‘She was extremely distressed,’ said Johnson.

‘And Ms Parkes.’

‘She was also extremely upset. Her concern was for the child: Emily did not understand what was happening. She thought she was going to be hurt.’

‘Were you nervous, Mr Johnson?’

‘Very much so. There were several occasions when I feared there was going to be a serious accident.’

None of the press lawyers questioned either the policeman or the solicitor when invited.

By the time he reached the end of his application Jarvis’s intrusion had virtually stopped. Hall concluded by insisting Annabelle Parkes would be called as a material defence witness at the trial of Jennifer Lomax, finally finishing, ‘I ask your lordship to find there is a very real risk that justice will not be served if this behaviour is allowed to continue. I therefore seek the protection of your lordship on all the points set out before you in my application, which I repeat in the most humble manner I have not brought lightly nor wantonly.’

There were a total of eighteen newspaper, television and radio lawyers, each of whom addressed the judge separately but with very little variation. Those representing the organizations identified by the money offer letters and by the cards thrust upon Jeremy Hall set the tone. The behaviour described was reprehensible and apologies for any excess were sincerely made for each episode. Each lawyer individually undertook on behalf of his organization to guarantee that neither the Hampshire house, the kindergarten nor the hospital would be subjected to any further press interest or intrusion.

‘I submit, however, that it is unnecessary legally to extend the precincts of any future court to include these named premises,’ said the white-haired lawyer who’d first accosted Hall in the hospital grounds. ‘It is my contention that the press of this country are more than capable of policing themselves. I would further ask your lordship to find that there was no risk of justice being interfered with, by the letters that have been produced, but which, incidently, Ms Parkes has not been called formally to swear to as having received. While questionable, such approaches are not uncommon in cases attracting great public interest. The newspaper I represent has made no such approach, nor will it. Once more, I contend the press is capable of establishing its own standards.’

There was a parade of agreement from lawyers that followed and those who hadn’t initially given personal undertakings on behalf of their media outlets all asked to be heard again, to do so. Jarvis allowed them, never once interrupting.

For several moments Jarvis looked between Hall and the lawyers ranged against him. Jarvis did so with his fingers on the very edge of the table, almost as if he was hanging on to prevent himself disappearing beneath it. Then he said, ‘I think the problems of this application, which I accept, Mr Hall, is quite properly brought, have been sufficiently aired. I am minded to accept the assurances of the learned counsel that such behaviour will not be repeated. And I am reluctant to extend on behalf of a judge not yet appointed the precincts of a court not yet convened: I am not aware, in fact, of a precedent. Would you, Mr Hall, be prepared to accept the verbal undertakings offered before me today, upon my making it clear that I would regard any transgression most unfavourably?’

Hall rose, slowly, wondering as he did so just how much he was endangering the career about which Perry was so constantly warning him. ‘Before answering your question, my lord, I would seek to address you on a matter of legal precedent.’

It took him a total of fifteen minutes to list the ten most recent and most highly publicized cases in which trial judges had publicly condemned financial offers to witnesses, in advance of their giving evidence at prominent trials. He did so individually, each time having the clerk carry the identified case record to Jarvis, who risked being even further submerged behind the growing wall of case books.

‘With the greatest respect, my lord, I would be reluctant to accept undertakings not supported by the strength of a legal finding by yourself. What I have complained of today is not the overenthusiasm or momentary lack of judgement that it has been presented to you as being…’ He was conscious of Jarvis’s face hardening into an affronted mask and of the total silence of every lawyer in the room at what each would consider upstart impudence. ‘… As you will see from the stated cases I have produced before you, every time complaints such as mine are made the argument is advanced that the press should be allowed to put its own house in order, to maintain its own standards and integrity. Which lasts only until the next time, when the same excuse is put forward, to yet another excess. There is a need for a precedent, a benchmark, and it needs to be established by someone of your lordship’s stature and pre-eminence…’

‘You’ve failed to cover an important point,’ stopped the determined judge yet again. ‘You have assured me Ms Parkes is to be an essential witness. Yet you’ve failed to bring her before me to satisfy me she was the recipient of these letters. Why?’

‘If it is your lordship’s wish then of course I shall make arrangements to have Ms Parkes brought here. She is, at the moment, at the hospital bedside of Emily Lomax…’

Jarvis leapt in at the hesitation, as Hall had prayed he would and which was why he’d paused. ‘Hospital bedside?’

‘I regret to inform your lordship that Emily Lomax was made so unwell by the events of the day that doctors at St Thomas’s felt it necessary to put her under observation. I am, however, pleased to inform your lordship the problem is not serious: I expect the child to be released later today. But she is extremely dependent upon Ms Parkes: wishes the girl to be with her at all times. It is for that reason I did not insist upon her being here. But as I say, if it is your lordship’s wish-’

‘No, not at all,’ broke in the judge. ‘I’ll take the evidence of the inspector and Mr Johnson as sufficiently supporting…’

‘… As I was saying,’ came back Hall, hurriedly. ‘I am particularly grateful it is before you, my lord, that I make this application today

…’ The mask had begun to soften, he thought. ‘… If my newness to the Bar makes me precocious, then I ask your lordship’s forgiveness and indulgence. I am so solely in the best interests not only of a client in need of defence but also of a four-year-old child who today had no-one to defend her and upon whose behalf I have made this submission to you.’

There was an ice-like chill in the room. Jarvis coughed, a bird-like sound. There is a complexion upon this episode that makes it an important one, with profound legal implications. I was unaware, until this moment, of the effect upon this tiny child and I am obliged to Mr Hall for bringing it to my attention. I am persuaded, therefore, by the eloquence of the presentation, to grant the application, although to limit the precinct extensions to the Hampshire home of Mrs Lomax and the child’s kindergarten but not the hospital in which Mrs Lomax is currently undergoing treatment…’ He looked directly at the press lawyers. ‘In doing so, I would advise each of you to bring to the notice of your clients and your employers what has been said and ruled here today. Until the appointment of a trial judge, the precinct order is mine and I will deal most harshly with any transgression.’

As they left the room Perry said, ‘Jesus, you took a risk talking of the child’s collapse like that.’

‘It wasn’t a lie,’ insisted Hall.

‘It wasn’t the truth, either.’

‘As much of the truth as any of the others were offering.’

‘Where the hell did you get all those stated cases of press complaints?’

‘You weren’t the only one working late last night. I was in the chamber library until midnight, preparing for any press complaint hearing. Came in handy, didn’t it?’

Emily was in a playroom attached to a children’s ward when Jeremy Hall returned to the hospital but ignoring the toys. She still clutched the much-hugged rabbit but her eyes never left Annabelle: when the nanny moved towards Hall as he entered Emily scurried alongside, grabbing up for the ever present hand. Julian Mason was there, with a slightly built, heavily bespectacled girl whom Hall assumed to be the child psychiatrist. He didn’t think she was much older than the nanny.

‘The press have been barred from the house,’ he announced to Annabelle. ‘And I don’t think you’ll have any problems going home. If you do, call me immediately.’ He encompassed the other two in the room. ‘Can Emily go home?’

‘Whenever she wants. We just waited for you,’ said Mason.

‘You’ve got to put Ronnie Rabbit to bed, haven’t you?’ encouraged the bespectacled girl to Emily.

The child ignored her, gazing up at Hall instead. ‘Why doesn’t Mummy like me any more? Annabelle won’t tell me.’

‘Your mummy does like you,’ said Hall, totally out of his depth and looking desperately at the others for help. ‘She loves you: she told me.’

‘She tried to hurt me, like the men.’

‘I’ve told Emily it’s the medicine her mummy’s taking to make her better,’ offered Annabelle.

‘That’s what it is,’ seized Hall. ‘She has to take the medicine to make her better. But it makes her do funny things, like today.’

‘Will she do it again?’

‘No.’

‘She didn’t want my drawing.’

‘She did. She’s got it now.’

‘Will I see her again?’

‘She’s asleep now. Getting better.’

‘Let’s go home,’ said Annabelle, briskly. ‘It’ll be late, by the time we get there. We’ll come and see Mummy another day.’

‘Will the men chase us, like before?’

‘No,’ promised Hall.

‘Good,’ said Emily, positively.

Hall and Mason walked Annabelle and the child to Johnson’s waiting car. At the entrance Emily perceptibly held back, frowning through the glass. There was no traffic jam or obvious press pack.

‘I’m sorry about today,’ Hall told Annabelle.

‘So am I,’ said the girl. ‘I suppose nobody could have guessed it would happen.’

Hall looked at Mason but said nothing, waiting until the Bentley eased from the hospital and turned immediately left towards the bridge. ‘Is it going to affect the child?’

‘Not permanently,’ said Mason. ‘It won’t have helped Jennifer, though.’

‘I’m not sure there is anything that will,’ said the lawyer.

Everyone was assembled, waiting in Proudfoot’s river-view office, when Jeremy Hall got back to chambers. The QC and Feltham were drinking whisky. There was a half-empty sherry glass on the table beside Perry. There was no immediate invitation to Hall.

Proudfoot said, ‘I thought it was time we had an assessment.’

‘The child is going to be OK. There’s still a lot more tests to be carried out upon Mrs Lomax.’

‘I meant legal assessment,’ said Proudfoot, impatiently. He indicated Perry. ‘We’ve heard what happened at the hearing.’

‘We’ve got protection from the press, which was very necessary,’ said Hall.

‘Bentley’s a headline hunter,’ chipped in Feltham, wheezily. ‘He’ll tell his press friends why the child collapsed and they’ll tell their lawyers. Who’ll make damned sure it gets hack to Jarvis. He won’t rescind his order hut he’ll make equally damned sure every judge on the circuit knows what you did. He’ll think he’s been made a fool of.’

‘You didn’t do yourself – or the chambers – any favours today,’ said Proudfoot.

‘It was right that the restrictions were imposed,’ insisted Hall.

‘You’ve alienated the press and the bench, in one go,’ said Feltham, just as insistently.

‘In the best interests of a client,’ fought back Hall. He was tempted to help himself to sherry, uninvited, but decided against it.

‘Aren’t you losing perspective here?’ asked Proudfoot. ‘It’s right that we’ve taken this case and it’s right – a matter of professional integrity – that we defend it to the best of our ability. But at the end of the day, it comes down to mitigation. The plea for which, after what happened with the child, seems perfectly obvious.’

‘Shouldn’t the application have been made?’ challenged Hall.

‘I’ve no fault with the application,’ accepted the chamber’s leader. ‘But the press undertaking would have achieved the same effect as the definite order and we – you – wouldn’t have been exposed to judges’ irritation.’

‘Do you wish to transfer the brief?’

‘No,’ said Proudfoot, quickly. ‘Just remember that if you’d like to discuss anything, my door’s always open…’ He made a general movement with his whisky glass towards the chief clerk. ‘And I’ve never found Bert’s advice unwelcome.’

But I don’t want it, from either of you, thought Hall. ‘Thank you, for your support and confidence.’

When he got home there was a message on his answering machine from Patricia Boxall that she couldn’t make the following evening. She’d call. Hall felt relieved.