Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3) (32 page)

‘My client, Gabriella Curzon, is far from perfect. She was brought up in the system with no real family to speak of, and no idea that she was a part of the DeLange dynasty. A chance meeting brought Ellis into her life, and gave her the sisterly connection that she had always craved but never known. Ellis helped her find work as a model. She gave her houseroom, and nurtured her modelling career. Ellis was the consummate big sister.’

Morton watched the jury’s gaze flitter from the lawyer to her client. Gabriella was biting her lip, trying to hold back the tears.

‘Gabriella and Ellis became close. When Ellis’ parents died, Gabriella was there. When Ellis fell from grace after her own dalliance with drugs, Gabriella was there. When Ellis was on the cusp of getting engaged to Kallum Fielder, Gabriella was there. Gabriella did what she thought any good sister should do. She tested. She poked and she prodded. With hindsight, she relied on Brianna too heavily when they plotted to test Kallum’s trust in Ellis.

‘Should she have? No. She regrets it deeply. Just as she regrets her actions at the crematorium. She owned up to those actions, fully and immediately. She apologised. She wants to serve her time for that wrongdoing. But she did not murder Ellis DeLange.’

Hollis paused, and look hard at the jury as if to gauge their mood.

‘The prosecution would have you believe that my client colluded with Brianna Jackson. That the two decided to commit murder together. Or that my client is setting herself up to inherit Ellis’ estate. There is absolutely no proof. Yes, she was in the house. But so was the true culprit, Brianna Jackson. Miss Jackson orchestrated the trick played on Kallum Fielder. She came back in the early hours of the morning and let herself into the house. She sold Ellis drugs, despite Ellis’ attempts to get clean. She is the sole beneficiary of Ellis estate. My client should never been charged with this crime.’

The jury stared at her, unemotional, almost listless. Hollis was barely halfway through her time but the jury looked like they were already beginning to tire of her monotone. It was no surprise. They’d been in court for weeks. Morton knew from experience that the last few minutes would make or break her case.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, the standard in a criminal prosecution is beyond reasonable doubt. If you have any doubts as to the guilt of my client, and you should have, then you must acquit. It is a fundamental principle of British justice that innocence is a shield against persecution, for if one cannot rely on a lack of criminality as a bulwark against the tyranny of injustice then the entire system of criminal justice shall fall.’

Hollis paused to survey the jury. She needed to get their attention, and fast. As though reading Morton’s mind, Hollis smiled and changed tack.

‘Think of it like a spam filter. We have to accept that occasionally spam emails end up in our inbox. It is better that we sometimes get spam emails in our inbox, than our real emails end up in spam where we never read them. It is the same principle that guides us when discerning guilt and innocence.’

The jury perked up. This wasn’t what they were expecting to hear.

‘It is better,’ she continued, ‘that ten guilty men go free than one innocent woman be sent to jail. My client is that innocent woman. Vote to acquit – because she didn’t do it.’

Chapter 70: Recess

Court recessed at five for the weekend, and Morton loitered for a moment to say hello to the prosecutor. Kieran appeared a few minutes later, his wig and gown safely tucked inside a blue damask cotton bag.

‘Evening, David. Got time for a swift pint?’

‘We’ll never find a table, nor somewhere quiet. But yeah, I’m not seeing Sarah ’til eight.’

‘I know a place,’ Kieran said.

‘Lead on then.’

They walked towards the Holborn Viaduct. The streets were awash with sunshine, and it seemed all the various lawyers and publishers who worked in Holborn were either dashing home or dashing to the nearest bar. They passed by a couple of Morton’s usual haunts, Ye Old Mitre and The Melton Mowbray, which were packed to the rafters with young professionals, and carried on until they reached High Holborn.

‘What’ve you got planned for date night, then?’

‘We’re going to an outdoor cinema in Hackney. Some art film that Sarah picked.’

‘Very hipster. Turn right,’ Kieran said.

They ducked under an archway before The Cittie of York and trudged along a hidden path. The sounds of legal London fell away as they passed by a guard hut. Kieran nodded at the guard, who gave a cheerful wave and said, ‘Evening, Kieran. You in for a beer?’

‘That I am, Kev. You stuck working?’

‘Only ’til six,’ said the guard.

‘Well, come find us then if you fancy a half.’

They walked past the guard, and into a tree-lined courtyard in the middle of an office block. Kieran led Morton into a building on the left.

‘Didn’t expect this, did you?’ Kieran grinned.

‘If you’re taking me off to be murdered, can we have that beer first?’

‘Hah. Up these stairs.’

They walked upstairs, and through a couple of doors – and emerged into a private bar.

‘Two pints of Pride, please,’ Kieran said to the barman, and moved to sit down at a table.

It was a small bar, almost empty, with views over the courtyard they’d walked through to the south and another to the north. The barman brought over their beers.

‘Cheers,’ Kieran said, raising his glass to Morton’s with a chink.

‘You happy with how the trial is going?’

‘Happy... no. But I don’t think Hollis’ wordy speech did her many favours. The jury has had a long week. Nobody wants to listen to a mini-lecture on a Friday afternoon, especially when it’s this nice out.’

Morton put his drink down. ‘Do you think that could influence how they decide a case?’

‘Absolutely. It shouldn’t but jurors are human, and they’ve got lives to get back to. The big guy on today’s jury–’

‘In the suit? Pinstripe shirt?’

‘That’s him. He’s been checking his phone every time court recesses. I’d bet ten to one that he’s trying to seal a business deal. On the other hand, the skinny kid with freckles looks like he’s delighted to be out of work for this. Jurors bring their own problems into a jury room. If they want to go home, they’ll reach a verdict more quickly, even if that verdict isn’t necessarily right.’

‘Then why did Hollis take the afternoon session?’ Morton asked. ‘If a tired jury is a bad jury to pitch to, then surely she should have waited until Monday.’

Kieran shook his head. ‘That would have been suicide. If she’d let them leave, they would have had the entire weekend to mull over my closing speech without the context of her defence. It would have won me the case. It’s one of the many reasons we shouldn’t use juries.’

‘What’s the alternative to using a jury?’

‘Trial by judge alone. Let qualified judges adjudicate on the law and the facts instead of just the law. Then again, even the Judiciary are human. They have other places to be, other things to think about. I’ve seen drunk judges. I’ve seen judges who’ve become jaded after presiding over trial after trial until they think every defendant is guilty. I guess we just live in an imperfect world.’

‘Speaking of imperfect, who leaked the missing witness to the press? Paddy Malone’s refusal to testify has been splashed all over the headlines.’

Kieran held up his hands. ‘Damned if I know. Paddy could be the leak, or that sneak Morgan-Bryant might have talked to them.’

‘But wouldn’t that hurt the defence case?’

‘Sort of. Having two defendants complicates things. Paddy was going to put Gabriella alone in the house, which shows that she had the opportunity to kill. Without Paddy, my case against Gabby is significantly weakened.’

‘Which makes it more likely Brianna did it.’

‘Exactly. They’re running a cut-throat defence,’ Kieran said. ‘If Gabriella didn’t do it, Brianna looks guilty. It’s in Morgan-Bryant’s interest for the reason that Paddy didn’t testify to become public. It makes it look like Gabby is hiding something, and supports Morgan-Bryant’s finger-pointing.’

Morton drained his pint. ‘I’m so glad I only have to catch ’em. You might have the nicer office, but I don’t envy you the job. I’d best get going. I’ll see you Monday.’

Chapter 71: Unanimity

The jury was recalled at 9:55 on Monday morning, and immediately sent out to deliberate.

They stayed out through lunch, a good sign according to Kieran, and returned to Court One at 13:45.

They shuffled back in.

‘Madame Forewoman, have you reached a unanimous verdict?’

Beebie stood, clasped her hands together and said: ‘We have not, My Lord.’

‘I need not remind you that each of you have taken an oath to return a verdict which is true to the evidence. You have been out for four hours. Each of you takes into the jury room your own experience with which to discuss the case and reach a verdict. Do you feel that further discussion might enable you to reach a unanimous verdict?’

The forewoman shook her head. ‘No, My Lord.’

Brianna grinned. She thought she was off the hook.

Judge Heenan looked at his watch. They were well over the cut-off period to put the case to a majority verdict.

‘Then I shall ask you to return to the jury room only a little longer, and deliberate further. I am willing to accept a majority verdict. If ten or more of you concur then I shall accept the verdict of the ten.’

The forewoman looked much happier. ‘Thank you, your honour.’

The jury trooped out single file to deliberate further.

Chapter 72: Deliberations

Mitch twiddled his thumbs as he sat in his usual chair at the end of the table. For three weeks it had been his, the closest door to the exit.
Not that we’ll be getting out of here any time soon
.

‘We just don’t have enough evidence,’ Beebie declared again. No one in the jury room was in any doubt as to her position. The woman next to her, whose real name Mitch could never remember, nodded sagely in agreement.

‘There’s loads of evidence,’ the youngest juror, a student called Amelia Glenn, said. ‘They were both in the house when she died – and no one else was.’

‘But how do we know that? We know Brianna was there. She admitted it. But Gabriella didn’t testify.’

Mitch raised a hand. ‘She didn’t testify for a reason. If she was innocent, she’d say so. Aleksander Barchester puts her in the house when he left. So did Kallum Fielder. If she had left, then she’d have said so, right?’

‘Not if she didn’t want to be cross-examined,’ Amelia said.

‘Why would an innocent woman fear cross-examination?’ Mitch asked. ‘Life in prison must be much scarier.’

‘No,’ Beebie said firmly. ‘She did not have to testify. I don’t blame her. Those lawyers would have twisted anything that she said. There is reasonable doubt. She should go free.’

‘She’s hiding something, Beebie, and you know it. Why didn’t that Patrick testify? The prosecution clearly expected him to.’

‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

‘Didn’t you spot the ring on her finger? I know it wasn’t much of a diamond, but one of you must have noticed it.’

‘She’s married. So?’

‘So she’s married to him. It’s the only reason that he wouldn’t be able to testify. You must have seen cop shows on the television.’

‘No.’ Beebie folded her arms across her chest. ‘She’d never marry him.’

‘Not even to get away with murder?’

A small hand went up at the back of the room. ‘Excuse me?’

Beebie turned. ‘What is it?’

‘She did marry him. I saw it on the front page of a newspaper.’

‘You looked up the news? Judge Heenan told us not to.’

‘No... Someone left a copy in the jury room. I found it on the table this morning. I put it in the bin. Over there, look.’

Beebie stood, and walked across the room. Sure enough, a copy of the newspaper was in the bin. ‘We should tell the judge.’ She walked towards the door, as if to call back the bailiff.

‘Wait!’ Mitch said.

‘What?’

‘She didn’t read it. Did anyone?’

Each of the twelve shook their head.

‘Then let’s get on with deliberations. If we didn’t read it, we didn’t do anything wrong. We’ve been here for weeks. It must be costing the taxpayer millions of pounds. You don’t want all that to go to waste, do you? Can’t we just ignore it?’ Mitch implored.

Beebie sat back down. ‘They don’t look like newlyweds,’ she grumbled.

‘I think we’ve deliberated enough. We all want to go home,’ Mitch said. ‘Unless someone wants to discuss something specific again, I propose a vote. With your permission, of course, Madame Forewoman.’

Beebie nodded. She picked up a notepad from the centre of the room, and tore the first sheet into twelve. On each piece of paper she wrote the names of Brianna and Ellis. ‘Tick for guilty. Cross for not guilty. One next to each name. Everyone understand?’

The papers were passed around, and each wrote down their verdict in secret. The papers were folded, and passed up to Mitch, as he had proposed the vote. He counted them all, then nodded.

‘Miss Beebie, would you like to confirm the count?’

Beebie took the papers, and double-checked the tally.

‘Do we have a verdict?’ Mitch asked.

Beebie nodded.

‘Bailiff!’

Chapter 73: The Jury Returns

They marched back in, chatting freely among themselves with a jovial, almost party-like atmosphere. They were finally going home. The bailiff summoned the judge from his chambers, and paged counsel to return.

When everyone was back in the courtroom, the judge asked the jury again: ‘Madame Forewoman, have you been able to reach a majority verdict?’

‘We have, Your Honour.’

‘On the charges against Miss Brianna Jackson, how do you find?’

‘Guilty.’

Brianna collapsed in her seat, the grin wiped from her grace. She glared stonily at Gabriella.

‘And on the charges against Miss Gabriella Curzon, how do you find?’

‘Guilty.’

Gabriella wailed, and collapsed against her lawyer.