Turn a Blind Eye

28

‘Will the prisoner please stand up?’

Summers rose from his place in the dock. He was wearing a brand-new suit, a white shirt, and a blue silk tie.

‘Jeremy Richard Summers, you have been charged with handling stolen goods, and by so doing, misconduct in public office. How do you plead?’

‘Not guilty,’ said Summers, looking directly at the clerk of the court.

‘You may be seated.’

Mr Justice Ramsden looked down from the bench to see Sir Julian quivering, like a greyhound in the slips, waiting to deliver his opening statement. Unlike Mr Booth Watson, who was slouched at the other end of counsels’ bench giving the appearance of a dormouse, half asleep. But then, Booth Watson knew it would be some time before he would need to open his eyes.

‘Sir Julian,’ said the judge, turning his attention to the eminent QC. ‘If you would care to open proceedings.’

Sir Julian rose from his place, tugged at his long black gown and adjusted his greying wig as he always did before turning to face a jury. He greeted the eight men and four women with a benevolent smile, aware that they were the most important twelve people in the court.

He glanced down at his prepared script, even though he’d considered the possibility that Summers would plead guilty, and all the hours of work would be made redundant with a single word. Years of experience had taught him that wasn’t a risk a barrister can take.

‘M’lud,’ he began, looking up at the bench, ‘I represent the Crown in this case, along with my junior, Ms Grace Warwick, while my learned friend Mr Booth Watson appears for the defence.’ He gave Booth Watson a reluctant bow that was not reciprocated.

‘I must open my submission with a warning,’ said Sir Julian, turning his attention to the jury. ‘The offence on which you are about to make a judgement is among the most disreputable any public servant can commit. The proof of this is the sentence determined by Parliament should you decide the prisoner is guilty—’ he paused, and looked directly at them — ‘is life imprisonment.

‘All citizens when dealing with a servant of the Crown, whether it be a distinguished judge or a bobby on the beat, have the right to assume the integrity of that person is beyond question. When that trust is broken, and in this case it was broken beyond repair, a draconian sentence is surely justified.

‘Detective Sergeant Summers appeared to be an outstanding police officer, with a record of arrests and commendations that heralded a brilliant career. But he chose to use those talents to break the law, not uphold it.

‘Temptation is part of every police officer’s daily experience, and the vast majority of them would never consider even for a moment crossing that line. But unfortunately there are some, though thankfully only a small number, who have no such scruples. Detective Sergeant Jerry Summers is such a man, as you will discover as this trial unfolds.

‘This, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is not a matter of a single lapse of judgement that might be overlooked when weighed against an otherwise commendable record of service to the community. Detective Sergeant Summers set up a clandestine network as well organized and effective as that of any professional gang in the criminal underworld.

‘Members of the jury, you will learn during the course of these proceedings how Summers, on numerous occasions after he’d made an arrest for theft or burglary, then made sure that some of the most valuable stolen goods were not handed in to the police station and detailed on his custody record, but would end up in Summers’s home or distributed among his friends and associates.

‘Unlike you or me,’ said Sir Julian, once again looking directly at the jury, ‘Detective Sergeant Summers didn’t need to visit the high street if he wanted a new television set, the latest hi-fi, or even a Jaguar. Instead, he simply removed them from among the stolen goods he had access to during the course of his duty. You may ask why the thieves themselves didn’t bring this to the attention of the authorities. But why would they, when a reduction in the number of items they were charged with having stolen meant they might receive a more lenient sentence?

‘However, that was still not enough to satisfy Detective Sergeant Summers’s wanton greed. For years his local district of Romford had been prey to two rival criminal families, the Paynes and the Turners. He decided to actively assist one of those ruthless gangs, in order to tip the balance in their favour, and perhaps more important, in his.

‘He set about arresting members of the Payne family, while allowing his paymasters in the Turner gang to escape scot-free. And while he was lining his pockets with their ill-gotten gains, he was at the same time receiving praise, and official commendations, for his exemplary police work. A modern-day Jekyll and Hyde.

‘But like so many criminals, he went one step too far when Scotland Yard set a trap to tempt him that he was unable to resist.’

Booth Watson wrote down the words Set a trap. A trap he later intended to spring.

‘The Crown will produce witnesses who will testify under oath that Summers stole drugs from one gang, sold them to the rival family he was working for, and then pocketed the proceeds. By doing so he was able to make more money in a month than he could hope to earn in a year as a detective sergeant. But then he made one fatal error. He attempted to involve an honest police officer in his crimes, who didn’t hesitate to report him to her superiors.’

Booth Watson wrote the words Didn’t hesitate on his yellow pad.

‘When that officer gives evidence, you will be left in no doubt of the extent of Detective Sergeant Summers’s criminal activities. Your verdict will be a resounding blow in the battle to protect ordinary, decent citizens from a corrupt individual who has betrayed the reputation of the most respected police force in the world.’

Sir Julian sat down not to tumultuous applause, but to something far more important, a jury that had hung on his every word. Even Booth Watson had to admit, if only to himself, that he had never witnessed his warring rival on better form. But only the first shot had been fired across his bows.

‘You may call your first witness, Sir Julian,’ said the judge.

‘Thank you, m’lud. I call Detective Inspector William Warwick.’

Lamont looked down at the eight men and four women from his seat at the back of the visitors’ gallery, aware that he couldn’t risk approaching any one of them after being warned by Jackie that he was being watched night and day.

He suspected that Bones Turner would be given the job of nobbling at least three of them, so the jury wouldn’t be able to reach a verdict. However, while the trial was taking place, he would have to avoid contact with any member of the Turner family, or Booth Watson for that matter.

He couldn’t complain. He’d been well rewarded for removing the one piece of evidence that Booth Watson was worried about.

William took the Bible in his right hand and sounded confident as he delivered the oath.

‘Will you please state your name and rank for the record,’ said Sir Julian, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

‘Detective Inspector William Warwick.’

‘Inspector Warwick, would you describe to the jury what your current work with the Metropolitan Police involves?’

‘I’m attached to a special unit at Scotland Yard investigating corrupt police officers, and one in particular.’

‘What is the name and rank of that officer?’

‘Detective Sergeant Jerry Summers.’

‘Do you see him in court today?’

‘Yes, sir. He is the accused, standing in the dock.’

‘What caused your unit to open an investigation into DS Summers?’

‘The chief constable of Essex informed the Yard that he suspected a serving officer in his constabulary was involved in the handling of stolen goods, and was working with one of the leading drug gangs on his patch.’

‘Where did you take it from there?’

‘We already knew there were two major drugs families operating in the Romford division, and the district commander became suspicious when members of one family kept being arrested, while their rivals appeared to be going about their business undisturbed.’

‘Armed with this information, detective inspector, what did you do next?’

‘I placed one of my inner team, PC Bailey, in the ranks of the Romford constabulary while I continued to work undercover.’

Booth Watson wrote PC Bailey?

‘Were you able to catch DS Summers, to use a colloquial expression, red-handed?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said William, opening his notebook. ‘In the early hours of Friday, May the twenty-ninth, an undercover officer observed Summers entering the home of Mr Reg Payne, the head of one of the leading drugs gangs. Summers was accompanied by another man, so our UCO assumed he was about to make an arrest.’

Booth Watson scribbled Will the UCO be giving evidence? on his yellow pad.

‘The two men came back out of the house some twenty minutes later, when the UCO took a photograph of Summers carrying a bulky Sainsbury’s shopping bag.’

‘Did the UCO then pursue the suspect, inspector?’

‘Yes, he did, when he drove to Jimmy Turner’s home in Westfield Drive, Romford.’

‘Jimmy Turner?’

‘The head of the other family of drug dealers, who we suspected Summers was in league with.’

‘And how long was he in Turner’s home?’

‘About thirty minutes.’

‘At one thirty in the morning?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And when he came back out, was Summers still carrying the bulky shopping bag?’

‘No, sir.’

‘What happened next?’

‘The officer followed Summers to his flat, then drove back to Scotland Yard where he left a written report of everything he’d witnessed that morning, along with photographs, on my commanding officer’s desk.’

Commander Jack Hawksby? was Booth Watson’s next note.

‘Once you’d read that report, inspector, what did you do next?’

‘I obtained a warrant to search Summers’s flat, which was later carried out in his absence by a team under DS Roycroft.’

Booth Watson wrote Was Summers informed of the search?

‘What did they find?’ asked Sir Julian.

‘A silver letter rack, two designer watches and some cash. A brand new Jaguar was parked in the driveway.’

‘Is that the best you can come up with?’ said Booth Watson, loud enough for his rival to hear.

‘Patience,’ snapped Sir Julian, without looking at him.

‘I beg your pardon, Sir Julian?’ said the judge, looking down from on high.

‘I apologize, m’lud, I was just having a quiet word with my learned friend,’ said Sir Julian before turning his attention back to the witness.

‘When DS Roycroft and her team searched DS Summers’s flat, inspector, were they looking for anything in particular?’

‘Yes, sir, a valuable diamond ring that my colleague PC Bailey had previously seen there.’

When had she first seen it? was added to Booth Watson’s growing list of questions.

‘And did they find the ring?’

‘No, sir. However, when DS Summers returned from a holiday in Malaga that same day, his companion, a Miss Karen Turner, was seen wearing the ring on the third finger of her left hand.’

This time Booth Watson wrote down every word, underlined Turner, and added Revenge?

‘Were you able to establish how DS Summers came into possession of the ring?’

Booth Watson heaved himself up. ‘M’lud, there’s absolutely no proof my client even knew of the existence of this ring, let alone that he was ever in possession of it.’

‘I hope my learned friend isn’t suggesting that it was Miss Turner who stole the ring?’ said Sir Julian with a sigh. ‘Or that DS Summers had gone on holiday with a young woman who was already engaged to someone else?’

Booth Watson sank back into his place.

‘After you had arrested DS Summers, did you question him about the theft of the ring?’

‘I did, sir, but he refused to answer any of my questions, which didn’t surprise me.’

Booth Watson was on his feet once again. ‘M’lud, I must protest. A suspect is perfectly entitled to refuse to answer any questions put to him by the police until his legal representative is present.’

‘You make a fair point, Mr Booth Watson,’ said the judge, and turning to the witness, added, ‘Stick to the facts, inspector. We are not interested in your opinions.’

William looked suitably admonished, but then he knew what his father’s next question would be.

‘Indeed, let’s stick to the facts, shall we, inspector. When Summers’s legal representative finally turned up, was he any more forthcoming?’

‘No, sir,’ said William, who wanted to add, which also didn’t surprise me, but restrained himself.

‘Allow me to return to the question my learned friend objected to. Were you able to discover how Summers came into possession of the ring?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said William. ‘We established that Garrard’s, the Mayfair jewellers, had originally sold the ring to a Mr van Haeften, for three thousand three hundred pounds.’

Sir Julian quickly switched tack.

‘How much does a police detective sergeant earn in a week?’

‘After tax and National Insurance, around a hundred and twenty-five pounds.’

‘You’re not suggesting that DS Summers stole the ring from Mr van Haeften?’ said Sir Julian, back on track.

‘No, sir. It was stolen by a burglar called Craig Harrison, who DS Summers arrested a few weeks later for a separate offence. When he was convicted, Harrison asked for eight other offences to be taken into consideration, among them the theft of some jewellery and other valuable objects from an apartment in Mayfair, which included Mrs van Haeften’s engagement ring.’

Sir Julian paused for a moment to allow the jury to absorb this information.

‘So you arrested Summers and charged him with handling a stolen ring worth three thousand three hundred pounds when he and Miss Turner arrived back from their holiday in Malaya.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘M’lud, the Crown will now produce the ring in question so the witness can identify it.’

The judge nodded in the direction of the clerk of the court, who rose from his place and walked across to the bundle of evidence that had been agreed on by both sides. He checked his clipboard. Item No. 11, one diamond ring in a Garrard’s leather box.

He removed the item, walked over to the witness box and handed the small leather box to the inspector.

‘Is that the Garrard’s box you mentioned earlier?’

‘Yes, it is, sir.’

‘And more important, Inspector Warwick, does it contain the ring that was taken from Miss Karen Turner when she arrived back in England from her holiday in Malaga with DS Summers?’ asked Sir Julian.

Booth Watson allowed the suggestion of a smile to creep across his face.

William flicked open the box and stared down at a diamond ring for some time before saying, ‘It does.’

Booth Watson stared up at Lamont in the visitors’ gallery, who, from the expression on his face, wasn’t in any doubt he’d been set up by Warwick. Sir Julian leant across and whispered to Booth Watson, ‘Once bitten...’

‘Sir Julian, perhaps the jury should be allowed to see this piece of evidence,’ suggested the judge.

‘I couldn’t agree with you more,’ said the Crown’s counsel. ‘Unless of course my learned friend objects?’

Booth Watson managed a curt nod. William handed the ring back to the clerk of the court, who after the judge had looked at it, walked across to the jury box and passed it to the foreman.

The foreman took her time studying the ring before it was examined by each of her colleagues in turn. The last person to be shown the damning piece of evidence was Mr Booth Watson, who dismissed it with a wave of the hand.

‘Thank you, Inspector Warwick, for your valuable contribution,’ said Sir Julian. ‘But could I ask you to remain in the witness box, as I expect Mr Booth Watson will want to cross-examine you.’

An expectant buzz swept around the court as everyone waited for the bull to face the matador.

‘Do you wish to question this witness, Mr Booth Watson?’ asked Mr Justice Ramsden.

Defence counsel rose slowly from his place, but didn’t even glance in Warwick’s direction before he looked up at the judge and said, ‘No, m’lud.’

The expectant buzz dissolved into a dozen unanswered questions as defence counsel resumed his place. William felt robbed for a second time, having spent so many hours preparing for the encounter. Sir Julian didn’t seem at all surprised, though Grace looked puzzled.

‘What’s he up to?’ she whispered in her father’s ear.

‘We’ve pulled the rug out from under his feet, so he now can’t afford to cross-examine William. Booth Watson was convinced the Garrard’s box would be empty. But the Hawk wasn’t going to let that happen a second time.’

‘So should we expect a change of plea?’

‘Not a hope. Booth Watson won’t throw in the towel while there’s the slightest chance of him getting his client off. However, he now knows PC Bailey is his only hope of climbing back into the ring. So don’t under any circumstances lower your guard, because she’s the one witness Booth Watson will be waiting for.’

‘Sir Julian, are you ready to call your next witness?’ interjected the judge.

‘Yes, m’lud. However, with Your Lordship’s indulgence, I shall ask my junior to conduct the Crown’s cross-examination of this particular witness.’

‘As you wish, Sir Julian.’

The daughter rose to replace the father. From the corner of her eye Grace noticed that Booth Watson was almost licking his lips in anticipation. He may have avoided the Choirboy, but he couldn’t wait for the Choirgirl.

Grace looked confidently up at the judge and then across at the jury before she said, ‘I call Police Constable Nicola Bailey.’