Beyond Innocence (21 page)

Michael Mulrooney couldn’t fathom any reason why two Liverpool prostitutes wanted him to defend them on charges of possessing cannabis, especially when the spokesperson was none other than Bridget Riley. Listening to her story, he concluded that, in all probability she was telling the truth. Even so, that left him with another dilemma. Why somebody in the Merseyside force thought necessary to stitch them up in this manner when it was so much easier to run them in on a prostitution charge which would certainly stick? Because that is what they were, and that was what they had previous convictions for. Hopefully, he sighed it would become a little more clear when he interviewed Theresa O’Rourke the next day.

Theresa O’Rourke was waiting in his office when he arrived the following morning. As she related her story, it was soon apparent that it followed the same pattern as Bridget’s story. Both women were denying possession of any drugs, claiming the police had planted the drugs during the search procedure. In addition, the women were claiming this had happened in the past, but then in return for sexual favours; they had been released without charge. Looking at the girls’ statements more closely, it was quite apparent this had happened on a number of occasions. He decided to press this point a little further and, as a result, he soon had a number of dates he could check on. He knew if he checked these with dates in the arrest book in the station he would be able to see how many times the girls had been released without charge. He was also aware, even if they had been released without being charged, that information should also be recorded. Obviously if these details were not in place as police procedure dictated, then something was very wrong with procedure at that station. On that basis alone there was a good chance of getting the women off.

Michael explained the procedure and the lines of enquiry he was going to pursue, and he told Bridget he would like to see her and Theresa before any court hearings. Before concluding the interview, he informed Bridget he had already been told, by Theresa, that she had been asked by Detective Sergeant West to testify that she had seen Angela Clarkson wearing the watch which figured so prominently in the recent murder trial. She had refused to give that evidence as she had not seen Angela wearing it. He then asked Bridget to give considerable thought to the evidence she had given in the murder trial. He offered her considerable reassurance. He started by telling her that, if it could be shown that she had been put under pressure by the police to testify, then she wouldn’t face any charges of perjury if she subsequently retracted that evidence. Seeing the look of concern on her face, he told her that without her cooperation on this matter, he wouldn’t be able to take any action himself, and any decision concerning this matter was entirely up to her.

Bridget could see the way out, and she could also see that this was one way of getting back at this crooked, lying copper, Detective Sergeant West. But, for the time being, it represented a step too far. As she prepared to leave, she told Michael she would give the matter some thought, and get back to him in due course.

Later that afternoon, Michael telephoned Irene Yarwood, and gave her an update on this most interesting day of developments. Irene was more than pleased with this news. Now she knew that she would be able to get at the truth once the Clarkson case came to appeal. All she had to do was find the other pieces of the jigsaw.

As it happened, she didn’t have long to wait. Two weeks later, the European Courts of Justice delivered their historic ruling on a prisoner’s right to silence. In effect, the courts were saying that, should a person elect to say nothing, then that was their right in law. In addition, by not saying anything it could not be inferred that a person was covering up their own guilt. Just how this would assist Harry Thompson she couldn’t say at this stage. All she knew was that she had a deep gut feeling telling her that somehow this was of vital importance to her client. Hearing the news, she determined, irrespective of what Harry Thompson thought about all of it being nothing more than a legal ploy to get him off, she would still bring it to his attention the next time they met.

It is said by many people that everybody watches, or listens to, the daily news bulletins at some time of the day. Whether they take it all in, or simply assimilate the news within their minds for use at a later time, is another matter. Certainly that was the case on this dull and rainy day, as the television newscaster intoned, “Police have discovered the body of a man believed to be in his late twenties in a disused warehouse in Manchester. We understand the premises in question had been used as a squat, and it was a known meeting place for drug users. The name of the person is being withheld until the body has been formally identified and the next of kin informed. At this stage, foul play is not suspected, and police are appealing for any persons with any information to come forward.”

Many people heard the news but paid little attention to it, as it didn’t affect them directly, including on this occasion Timothy Harris. To him and countless others, this was just another wastrel who had lost his life needlessly therefore, there was nothing for anybody to lose any sleep over. As he relaxed in his Cheshire home, he poured himself a large brandy, and contemplated his own future which was now being complicated as a result of his wife’s illness. Despite his wife’s illness, he was still enjoying life, but he realised he had to keep a much lower profile, and it also meant his divorce case was put on hold. This bothered him but, because of his position in the eye of the public, he’d decided this was the best action to take. Besides, if his wife died as a result of her illness, he would save a lot of money because there would be no costly divorce or settlement to pay. All thoughts of Julie had been banished from his mind, and it was almost like being single again as he wallowed in the waves of sympathy which well wishers within the party bestowed upon him.

Despite this, there was something on his mind and although he didn’t lose any sleep over the matter, he did find it difficult to accept his wife’s illness on a long term basis, and he knew he would have to start the ball rolling at some time if he wanted to get her life support system switched off. Once the courts ruled in his favour on that issue, he would be able to enjoy life to the full. Who knows, he thought, I might even retire from politics altogether, and seek opportunities and pleasure elsewhere. Then his mood changed, there was one thing stopping him. It was that bloody stupid consultant in charge of his wife.

He poured himself another large brandy, and settled himself into his comfortable leather armchair recliner. To relieve the quietness of the house he switched on the television then he picked up that morning’s edition of ‘The Times.’ As he heard the news bulletin again, including details of the body discovered, he found himself saying, “silly pillock’s better off dead.” The buzzing of the intercom system brought him back to reality.

“Yes he answered in reply who is it?

After a short pause a voice answered, “My name is Chief inspector Mallory and I need to speak to you on a matter of some delicacy, and urgency. If we can come up, we won’t detain you a moment longer than necessary.”

Almost mechanically, he pressed the button on the automatic security entrance system, and made his way to the front door. Thoughts raced through his mind, was it something to do with his wife? Then he shuddered as another thought occurred, perhaps something has come up about Julie? He dismissed this immediately however because she was dead, and cremated now.

As he opened the door, he saw the frame of Chief Inspector Mallory together with another officer. Mallory produced his identification which showed him to be a member of the Security Services saying, “would you like to sit down I think we have some bad news for you?”

Timothy was convinced this was the bad news he desperately wanted to hear as he enquired, “Is it about my wife? She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Mallory looked at his colleague a little nonplussed as he replied, “No sir, we haven’t come about your wife. We are here about your son Anthony. Our enquiries have revealed that the body of a person, discovered in a disused warehouse, could well be that of your son.”

Obviously, this was not the news Timothy was expecting. He was sure there must be some mistake. Surely not Anthony, oh it was true they’d had their ups and downs, and he’d thrown him out of the house some time ago, but no, not this, surely it had to be a mistake. “Was it, was it an accident?” he asked nervously, quite unsure of himself.

“We think it may have been due to an accidental drug overdose, sir, so I suppose you could say that it was an accident, but the body has been taken away for a post mortem examination, and until that’s been carried out I’m afraid we cannot say for certain. In the meantime, we would like you to accompany us to the mortuary to identify the body. At the moment there’s a complete news blackout on this story, and I’m sure you can understand why. However, these things can only be kept under wraps for a certain amount of time. You can rest assured, sir, if the story does get out we’ll appeal to the press to delay publication for a little while. The Chief Inspector was standing now and it was quite plain, however unpleasant the task ahead, it was time to go.

Timothy locked up the house, and climbed into the back of the unmarked vehicle which drew quickly, and silently, out of the long winding drive.

During the journey Timothy had ample time to reflect. Yes, it was a wasted life, and yes, Anthony was a silly pillock but maybe if he had treated him better things might have been different. He knew he was more than partly to blame. He had always harboured doubts that Anthony might not be his son and this had shown itself on many occasions during their lives. Now he found himself regretting all of this and the subsequent events which had happened.

Their presence was expected and they were taken straight to the mortuary where an attendant slowly opened a cabinet which contained the body. He drew back the sheet to reveal the corpse. Timothy knew instantly and he turned away in an effort to hide his grief. With his voice barely above a whisper, he acknowledged to the silent onlookers that it was the body of his son.

Throughout the journey home, Timothy never spoke a word. He went silently into the deserted house to be alone with his grief. Once inside, he wasn’t allowed much solitude, or privacy, as the messages of condolence began flooding in from the Prime Minister, and all members of the political spectrum as well as countless well wishers and friends.

Lying in her hospital bed, Paula Harris was deeply conscious of all the sound and movement going on around her. Her mind was deeply troubled with countless thoughts, and questions for which she never received any answers. She knew she was in a strange environment, but where upon earth was she and how long had she been there? Why couldn’t she see anybody, or for that matter anything at all? To make matters worse, why didn’t anybody come near her whenever she cried out? Unbeknown to Paula, no sound came from her lips no matter how hard she tried to talk, or scream. Similarly, there was nobody to witness any movement in her body because no matter how much she tried, her body wouldn’t respond to any signals that she desperately tried to send from her brain. Despite this each day she strengthened her resolve, and determined one way or another that somebody would realise that she was still alive.

From the different sounds emanating from the ward, she could tell there had been a change of staff and nurses Betty and Brenda were on duty. As they carried out their daily tasks, she heard them talking to each other. She tried to picture their faces whilst trying desperately to make some noticeable movement, but as usual it was to no avail. Today however, they had a new topic of conversation to talk about as she heard the voice of Betty enquiring, “did you hear the news this morning Brenda, about that poor fellow they found in a disused warehouse? Well, it seems that it’s her son.” She nodded her head in the direction of Paula as she ended the sentence.

“No I didn’t hear that. I was too busy trying to get here on time, I didn’t even have a chance to put the telly on.” replied her companion, “but, if it’s true it must be awful. Fancy just lying here unable to see or hear, and yet the whole world and his dog knows your son’s dead, and you’re completely oblivious to it.”

But, Paula Harris was not oblivious to it. She was here and she could hear every word the nurses were saying. Surely, she agonised, there must be some mistake. Please. Please dear God, she prayed, make them say it’s all a mistake. Not Anthony – it mustn’t be, it can’t be true.”

As if to punish her further, the voices continued, “well apparently they gave it out that Timothy Harris, yes, that MP, identified the body last night. There’ll have to be a post mortem to determine the cause of death, although the papers are saying he was on drugs. All the same it’s still a shame isn’t it, and it just goes to show, even the best of families have drug problems, not just our kids Brenda. What do you say?”

Brenda readily agreed and gradually, the voices began to recede as the nurses moved out of the ward. Had they stopped to make a final check on their charge, they might have just caught the glimpse of a tear which forced its way out of the corner of their patient’s eye as they left Mrs. Harris alone with her new found grief. Neither could they see the movement in the little finger of her right hand which, with great determination, she was trying to cross over her ring finger. With both her arms beneath the tightly wrapped sheets, this tiny movement went unseen by all, then completely exhausted by her exertions, Paula sank into a deep sleep.

Harry Thompson never knew what hit him. One minute he was walking into the shower block on his own. Then crash, all the lights went out, and he remembered nothing more. Now he was in a dream, floating light as a feather, looking down on the world. Only something was wrong: everything was hazy and out of focus. His head throbbed and the pain was getting worse. It seemed as if his brain would explode. Gradually he sensed calm being restored, and he was floating again. This time he was floating on a series of waves, being carried gently to the shore. How long he lay there he didn’t know as he drifted in and out of consciousness. In his barely wakeful moments, he was aware he could hear himself talking to different people. Everybody around him seemed to be sifting through masses of papers then, just when it seemed that he was going to get some answers, the lights went out again as he lapsed, once more, into his unconscious state. Events throughout the world passed him quickly by as a result of an attack by another inmate, Lying in his hospital bed he was able to piece together the events of that night and, although he didn’t actually see his assailant, he knew who was responsible and, he vowed, when the time came he would exact his revenge.

At that moment the door opened and he could just make out the figure of Bertram Carter, the prison governor, accompanied by a doctor. As the Governor advanced towards his bed, the doctor spoke to him in a soft voice saying, “You certainly seem a bit brighter and it makes a nice change to find you awake. As you can see Mr. Carter, the prison governor, has come to see you and I’ve told him that he can have a couple of minutes with you.”

Bertram Carter stood at the side of his bed. He seemed a little nervous when he spoke, “Er, Hello Thompson. I hope you’re feeling a little better now, and, er, by the way, the doctor said you can only improve now although it’ll take a little time. I thought you might like to know that there’s a full scale enquiry under way in the prison and as soon as we find those responsible, you can rest assured we’ll throw the book at them. I don’t suppose you would have any idea yourself who was responsible would you?”

Harry shook his head. It wasn’t a case that he genuinely didn’t know or he was afraid of saying who was responsible. Identifying his assailant would only add to his problems once he was back inside. Once back in the prison, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he came face-to-face with his attacker then it would be up to him to exact his own revenge. For the time being, in an effort to take the heat out of the incident, Harry insisted it was a complete accident, and that he had slipped on a bar of soap. He knew the governor wouldn’t fully accept this explanation but he was determined to stick with it, and nothing and nobody would encourage him to change his mind.

Bertram Carter sighed as he realised that Harry was not going to assist him. Before terminating the interview, he asked him if there was anything he wanted or if he wished to see any specific visitors. In reply Harry asked if it would be possible to see Irene Yarwood, and the governor promised to assist, adding he would pass on the message as soon as possible.

Irene reached her own office just as the telephone began to shriek its ugly sound. She quickly lifted the receiver. This time she was pleasantly surprised to find herself talking to Bertram Carter, the prison governor, and she readily agreed to his request to visit Harry that day. During the conversation, the governor told her about the attack on her client and sought her help in trying to get Harry to change his mind about identifying his assailant. En route to the prison, she wondered why she had received this summons, because under normal circumstances, this would have been something for Harry’s solicitor to handle but, she knew she would find out soon enough.

When she arrived at the prison, the governor escorted her to the hospital wing where she could see Harry lying in bed. She broke the ice immediately by saying, “don’t bother to get up Harry.” She was rewarded instantly with a smile, possibly the largest smile she had ever seen upon his face, although that was hardly surprising considering his ordeal over the previous months.

“I must say it’s nice to see you again. How are you feeling Harry and what on earth has been going on here?”

Determined to stick to his story, Harry replied, “I had an accident in the shower block. I must have slipped on a piece of soap. The next thing I knew I’m in here. Now, everybody’s running round saying I’ve been attacked by another inmate, but I can assure you it wasn’t like that at all. I’m feeling much better now, and if I continue to make good progress then I should be moved back to the prison sick bay within the next week or so. That will be a lot better because at least I will be able to move around a bit. After that, it’ll be back to the old cell which brings me to the real point of your visit. Since this unfortunate accident, and whilst I’ve been lying here, I’ve given a lot of thought to what you said about getting my conviction quashed on the human rights issue and I’ve decided to go along with it. Lying here, in this state, has given me ample time for thought and I think you’re right. I should go for it because that’ll show everybody I have nothing to be afraid of, and I was not the guilty person. Therefore, if you’re still prepared to act for me on that basis, I’ll be very pleased to do as you say. I have to be perfectly honest and tell you that isn’t the only reason. The doctors have told me any type of fall, or another blow to the head, would probably be enough to finish me off. Therefore, I have to take advantage of every opportunity which comes my way. I also have to tell you, even if you are successful, I won’t ever stop trying to prove my innocence completely.”