Skinner's rules

16

Summing up in the trial of Patrick McCann took only ninety minutes in total. The jury retired at 11.32 a.m.

The Court waited in readiness for a verdict, until 1.00 p.m., when the jury was given lunch.

Rachel ate in the Court restaurant with the Advocate Depute and with Sam Burns, the instructing solicitor.

The AD had looked sure of his success when the jury retired, but Rachel noticed him grow more and more edgy as time wore on. Anything longer than forty minutes normally meant disagreement. In a case like this, anything more than an hour could be ominous for the prosecution.

Rachel was nervous too. Suddenly, success looked like a real possibility. Soon, the evil McCann might walk free through the front door of the Court, instead of being hustled through the side exit, handcuffed to prison officers. She began to experience, truly, for the first time in her career, that terrible divide between elation and guilt. This was not the same as the Chinese trial. Her client then, Shun Lee, had been a simpleton, who, she still believed, had played no part in the girl’s murder.

Lunch over, the jury remained closeted in its room.

Finally, at 3.52 p.m., a bell rang, summoning participants and public to the Court. The jury was on its way back.

McCann was brought up from the cells. And the eleven men and four women, unanimously, declared him guilty of both charges.

Lord Orlach wasted no time. After McCann’s previous convictions had been read out by the Clerk, the old judge told the prisoner that it was clear that he had to be removed from society once again, and for a long time. He sentenced him to life imprisonment for rape, with the recommendation ‘to those whose task it will be to consider your eventual release’ that he should serve at least fourteen years. He also sentenced him to six years’ imprisonment on the wounding charge, to be served concurrently.

Rachel Jameson’s last duty after the trial was to visit McCann in the cells, as he awaited transfer back to Barlinnie, this time as a convicted prisoner, a sex offender, a prison pariah.

The man who had sat so calmly through trial and sentence was now in a rage. He sat at a plain table, a burly prison officer at his side, and swore savagely at Rachel. ‘So you were clever, eh. You said ah’d get life and you were fuckin’ right. If you hadna held back on that hoor in the witness box, ah’d be out now! Ah tell you somethin’, hen. Fourteen years won’t be long enough for you. As soon as ah’m oot, you’re finished. In fact you’re fuckin’ finished now!’

Rachel screamed as McCann lunged across the table. The big prison officer thumped him on the side of the head. McCann swayed to the side, then suddenly swung back toward the guard, who had been thrown off balance by his own blow, and butted him savagely between the eyes.

The man went down poleaxed, just as his colleague threw the door open. The newcomer had no time to react as he was seized and shoved backwards. His head cracked loudly against the wall.

Smiling now, McCann released the unconscious man, and turned towards Rachel. She had backed into a corner of the white-tiled room, cowering and mute with fear, unable to scream or even speak. Her handbag lay open on the table. McCann saw the wallet inside. He snatched it up, clawed £55 from the notes section, and emptied the change pocket, then threw it into the far corner of the room. He looked back towards her. His face was calm, the eyes shining, the familiar arrogance back. He smiled. ‘I’ll see you again, Miss Jameson.’ He looked out of the room, left and right, and then he was gone.

Rachel stood frozen in her corner. She heard, but she could not react to the sudden commotion as McCann crashed through the exit door. She did not move for almost two minutes, until the prison officer nearer to her on the floor began to come round. She crossed the room towards the man. His nose was pouring blood and there was a deep vertical cut between his eyes.

A young police constable appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh Christ,’ he gasped, then turned and ran. Seconds later an alarm blared. Rachel looked along the corridor. The exit door lay ajar. The feet and legs of a third uniformed man were visible, sprawled like his colleagues. McCann was free and clear.