Turn a Blind Eye

16

‘Mr Lamont, I would like to begin by asking you why you resigned from the police force only months before you would have been eligible for a full pension.’

‘As I stated under oath, Sir Julian, it was a matter of conscience. I couldn’t stand by and watch an innocent man being convicted for a crime he hadn’t committed.’

Clare, who, as the consulting solicitor, was sitting a row behind the QCs, placed an X against question number one. 0–1.

‘You told the court that Mr Rashidi returned to his home in The Boltons every evening during the week, and that he then stayed there overnight before being driven back to work in the City the following day.’

‘That’s what his mother told me, and I had no reason not to believe her.’

‘When exactly did you see Mrs Rashidi?’

Lamont looked up at the judge. ‘M’lud,’ he said, ‘may I refer to the notes I made at the time?’ The judge nodded. Lamont opened his notebook and flicked through several pages. ‘May twelfth, fourteenth and nineteenth,’ he pronounced. ‘I also interviewed Mrs Rashidi’s housekeeper and his driver.’

Grace placed an X against that question. 0–2.

‘You also told the court that you were the officer in charge of Operation Trojan Horse. Was that entirely accurate?’

‘I was in charge of the day-to-day planning, but I reported to Commander Hawksby, who as head of the unit joined us on the night of the raid. He in turn reported to the assistant commissioner of the Metropolitan Police.’

‘Got himself off the hook with that reply,’ conceded Clare. 0–3. She had to admit that so far, Sir Julian hadn’t laid a glove on him.

‘You also informed the court that your private investigations revealed that on the night of the raid, Mr Rashidi had visited a warehouse in Battersea, as he did every Friday evening. Having done so, he then went on to the drugs factory to purchase a small amount of cannabis for his personal use, which you suggest explains why he was there when the premises were raided.’

‘That is correct.’

‘How far is it from the warehouse to the drugs factory?’

Lamont hesitated for the first time. ‘About a mile,’ he said, ‘which would account for the bus ticket we found in his pocket at the time of his arrest.’

‘Why would Mr Rashidi need to take a bus to the drugs factory, when he had a car and driver?’

For the second time Lamont looked as if that was a question he hadn’t been prepared for. He glanced desperately at Booth Watson, who sat there, head bowed. 1–3.

‘Since you appear to have no answer to that question, I will move on. What time did the warehouse close that night?’

‘I have no idea,’ admitted Lamont.

‘But didn’t you tell the court you had carried out a thorough investigation after you were convinced Rashidi had been wrongly arrested?’

Another question that clearly hadn’t been on Booth Watson’s crib sheet. 2–3.

‘Then allow me to tell you,’ said Sir Julian. ‘A notice on the warehouse gate states that they close at six o’clock. Are you suggesting Mr Rashidi stood at a bus stop for three hours waiting for the 127, when he could have walked there and back several times?’

Lamont didn’t offer an opinion, so Clare put an X next to the question. 3–3.

‘Once again, the jury won’t have missed the fact that you failed to answer the question,’ said Sir Julian. ‘So I’ll move on. Mr Lamont, you told the court that when you went to what the police presumed to be Mr Rashidi’s apartment in Block B on the day after the raid, the only photograph you saw there was of Mr Roberts’s mother.’

‘That is correct,’ said Lamont, back on track.

‘I’m now going to ask the clerk of the court to show you another photograph, Mr Lamont, and I’d like you to tell me if you’ve ever seen it before.’

Sir Julian handed a silver-framed photograph to the clerk who in turn passed it to Lamont. He studied the image for a few moments before admitting, ‘Yes, I have seen this photograph before. It was in Mr Rashidi’s drawing room at The Boltons when I interviewed his mother.’

‘He saw that one coming,’ whispered Clare, and added another X to her list. 3–4.

‘Then I’m bound to ask,’ said Sir Julian, ‘how the police got hold of a copy of the same photograph, that just happened to be in an identical frame?’

‘I have no idea. But I have a feeling your son might be able to answer that question.’

One or two members of the jury smiled, and Clare put another X against that question. 3–5. She glanced at the next one and felt more hopeful.

‘How many times did you interview Mr Rashidi while you were carrying out your private investigations?’

‘On three separate occasions.’

‘I notice that you didn’t need to check the dates in your notebook this time.’ 4–5.

‘You didn’t ask me for the dates,’ said Lamont. ‘Only how many times.’ 4–6.

‘Then I’m bound to ask how many times you have seen Mr Rashidi since you resigned from the Metropolitan Police.’

‘Not once,’ said Lamont confidently.

‘And Mr Booth Watson?’

Booth Watson was quickly on his feet. ‘I can answer that question, m’lud.’

‘I’m sure you can,’ said Mr Justice Whittaker. ‘But it’s Mr Lamont’s response the jury will want to hear, not yours.’

Booth Watson reluctantly sat back down. 5–6.

‘Twice,’ said Lamont, not sounding quite as confident. ‘When I provided him with written evidence under oath, with a witness present.’

‘Were you compensated for your trouble?’

‘That is a disgraceful suggestion,’ said Booth Watson, even before he’d had time to rise.

‘Possibly,’ said the judge, ‘but once again, I would like to hear the witness’s response.’

‘No, sir,’ said Lamont, turning towards the judge. ‘I received nothing for telling the truth.’ 4–7.

‘Then how much did you receive for telling lies?’ asked Sir Julian. 5–7.

As the court erupted, Sir Julian turned around to Clare, who handed him a large brown envelope. He opened it slowly and extracted three photographs, which he took his time considering.

‘Was last night one of the occasions on which you visited my learned friend?’

Booth Watson leapt to his feet.

‘Sit down, Mr Booth Watson,’ said the judge, ‘or I’ll hold you in contempt.’

Booth Watson hovered like a cat waiting to pounce, but finally slunk back down.

‘Let me ask you once again,’ said Sir Julian. ‘Did you have a meeting with Mr Booth Watson last night, which as you must know is against the law, while you’re still giving evidence?’ 6–7.

Lamont stared at Booth Watson, who kept his eyes down.

Sir Julian waited for some time before saying, ‘As Mr Lamont seems unwilling to answer the question, m’lud, I would be happy for my learned friend to confirm or deny whether such a meeting took place.’ 7–7. Extra time.

Booth Watson didn’t stir. Sir Julian placed the three photographs of the young William as a choirboy back into the envelope, before handing it to Clare. 8–7.

‘I have no more questions for this witness, m’lud.’

Lamont stepped out of the witness box and quickly left the court, without looking at Rashidi or Booth Watson. Final whistle.

Lamont had anticipated almost every one of Sir Julian’s questions, until he’d produced those photographs. But he hadn’t shown them to the court. Was he bluffing? Lamont had been about to call his bluff, and say that he hadn’t seen Booth Watson the previous night, but at the last moment he wondered if Marlboro Man had tailed him and witnessed him turning up for the clandestine meeting. If he had, it wouldn’t just have been Rashidi who ended up in jail, because Booth Watson would have been hauled up in front of the Bar Council for the last time. So Lamont had decided to follow another of Booth Watson’s pieces of sage advice: if in doubt, remain silent.

The oleaginous QC couldn’t have made his position clearer when they’d met the night before. If Rashidi got off the main charges, Lamont would be well rewarded. But if he didn’t...

Lamont realized that he still had one last chance to influence the jury and redeem himself with Booth Watson. Fortunately, the judge had halted proceedings until Monday morning when he would begin his summing up.

He’d already carried out in-depth research on all twelve of the jurors, just in case things started to go wrong. And things had gone badly wrong. However, all was not lost when Lamont discovered he could stitch up two of them for the price of one.

As the proceedings had been wrapped up for the day earlier in the week, he’d followed juror number three as she left the court, and was surprised when she dropped into a local hotel. Moments later juror number seven appeared and entered the same hotel. Lamont hung around on the far side of the road, in the freezing cold, for just over an hour, before juror number seven reappeared. He headed quickly off towards the nearest Tube station.

A few minutes later juror number three came out of the hotel, and began walking in the opposite direction.

It didn’t take Lamont that long to find out they were both ‘happily’ married, with five children between them, one of whom had recently announced her engagement in the Farnham Gazette. The other was hoping to be elected chairman of his local golf club at the AGM next month.

He already knew where they both lived, and the journeys they took home from court each day. He would be on the same train as juror number seven this evening.