The Perfect Girl

MONDAY MORNING
SAM

The choice that I gave to Mr and Mrs Guerin and Zoe, when we met to discuss her case on that freezing cold morning in Bideford, was a difficult one.

Zoe could go to her initial hearing at court, and plead guilty. The court would look favourably on this, as it avoided a costly trial, and was an admission of culpability. It would probably keep her sentence to a minimum, though she was unlikely to avoid something custodial.

Or, Zoe could turn up at her initial hearing and make a ‘Special Reasons’ plea. She would have to admit that she drove the car, and caused the accident, but could ask a judge to decide whether she was guilty of knowingly driving when drunk. If you accepted Zoe’s explanation, it would appear that somebody spiked her drink at the party, most likely the boy she was with, Jack Bell, who was also one of the victims. We would have to prove that in court though, and that would be a tough call, especially as three of the key witnesses were dead.

‘Well, we’ll do that then,’ says Mr Guerin when he heard this option. ‘That’s a plan then.’

People who are in the system for the first time are always tempted to mount a defence, because it feels like a chink of light, a way of minimising the damage they’ve done, the guilt they feel, and the harm to their reputation and that of their family.

Maria could see pitfalls: ‘Well, wait a minute, what if they don’t believe her?’

‘It’s the truth, isn’t it?’ her husband said.

Maria didn’t speak, she was waiting for my reply.

‘If the court don’t accept that defence, then Zoe risks a tougher sentence than she might have got if she pleaded guilty.’

‘But it’s not on her conscience then, is it?’ said Mr Guerin. ‘If she pleads guilty it’s like telling the world that our daughter accepts that she murdered those children. Murdered them, Maria.’

Zoe was shrinking into her chair.

Maria ignored him. ‘It’s a gamble, then.’ She directed this at me.

‘It would be a gamble, yes.’

‘Would she have a chance of getting less of a sentence if the judge accepts the plea, than if she pleaded guilty in the first place?’

‘I doubt it, no.’

‘But we wouldn’t have it on our conscience,’ said Maria. ‘It would be a similar sentence but it would be proven that she didn’t know she was drunk, that it was just a normal accident.’

In my view, this is what you call clutching at straws, but this family was obviously trying to clutch at anything.

Mr Guerin was on his feet now, standing at the window of my office, which had a view of the waterside, where the tide was low that morning, leaving the boats mostly stranded on the mud. A low, immovable grey sky waited patiently above the scene while this family considered their options, and it dulled and flattened the landscape across the harbour. Below it, seagulls hovered and circled, just as they did every day.

Mr Guerin had his back to us but when he spoke his voice was firm, and it was clear that he’d made a mental U-turn.

‘It’s not worth the risk,’ he said. ‘What if they don’t believe her?’

‘I’ll tell them the truth,’ said Zoe.

‘You’ve killed people, Zoe,’ he said, ‘who’s going to believe you?’

Quite apart from the hopeless resignation in his tone, and the effect it had on his daughter, this statement got to me because Philip Guerin was exactly the kind of man who was likely to be on a jury in this part of the world, and while I knew that there would be no jury in a youth court, where Zoe would be tried, it was an attitude that could well be shared by the magistrates, or judge.

‘They’ll believe her.’ Maria was suddenly adamant. ‘We can coach her. They’ll feel sorry for her, she’ll be a good witness, and perhaps we can get some of the other children in the witness box.’

‘No,’ said Mr Guerin. ‘I’m fed up with you coaching her. You’ve coached her enough, Maria. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t coached her so she got a music scholarship. She’d be at the local school, which was good enough for me by the way, but not good enough for your daughter. If she’d gone there none of this would have happened. It’s going to that jumped-up school and trying to keep up with the kids there, that’s why this has happened. No. I won’t do it. She should plead guilty, and take the consequences for what she’s done, pay for it, and then perhaps we can get some forgiveness one day.’

‘I don’t agree,’ said Maria. ‘Think of Zoe. Think of us!’

‘I am thinking of her. And of the other families. I grew up with Matt.’ His voice choked. I recognised the name of Zoe’s friend Gull’s dad.

‘I know you did,’ Maria said.

‘I won’t put him and Sue through a trial.’

‘We have to give Zoe a chance to clear her name.’

‘No! Gull was their only child, you know that.’

‘I’m not willing to jeopardise Zoe’s future to save the feelings of the other families.’

‘Sometimes, Maria, you have a hard heart,’ said her husband. ‘What future does Zoe have now anyway?’

I wanted to jump in and defend Zoe, but Maria was on her feet now too, and both of them were seemingly oblivious to Zoe.

‘How is it having a hard heart to protect your daughter?’ Maria spoke quietly but with a vehemence that was startling.

‘And what if it doesn’t protect her? What if it goes wrong and she goes to jail for longer than she would have if she pleaded guilty?’

They were facing each other across the table, although it was hard to see Mr Guerin’s expression because his back was to the window now.

‘Zoe,’ I said, because it was definitely time for me to calm things down and I wanted to remind these two adults that their child was listening to them. ‘Do you understand what the decision is here?’

‘I don’t want to go to prison, but I don’t want to make it worse for the families,’ she said. ‘I’ll say I’m guilty.’

As there was a sharp intake of breath from Maria, Mr Guerin came around the table and put his hands on the back of Zoe’s shoulders. He had huge, red, dry, calloused hands, and they made Zoe look smaller and more fragile than ever.

‘Well done, girl,’ he said.

But I looked at Maria, and at Zoe, who watched her mother anxiously, and I didn’t think this decision was made yet.