Wig Betrayed (11 page)

Now the time had come for sentencing. Unlike a civil court where the judge deals with the sentencing process on his own, the military members and the judge advocate come together on the bench in dealing with this process. Naturally the judge advocate, with all his experience, is expected to take the lead with his colleagues contributing by using their military expertise. If a unanimous decision on the punishment cannot be reached then a majority will suffice, with the judge advocate having a casting vote. Sometimes, disagreements break out amongst the members, particularly where the court has to deal with a soldier of outstanding reputation. So it was to prove with Sergeant Cockaigne.

“Wounding with intent is one of the most serious in the violence category,” I explained. “Remember that Cockaigne didn't just jab the glass in Bisley's neck – that would be bad enough in itself – but he actually smashed it in advance. He also pleaded not guilty and showed no contrition whatsoever. Indeed, by implication he was shifting the blame onto somebody else. Why shouldn't he be dealt with in exactly the same way as a civilian offender and be punished accordingly? The tariff of imprisonment would be four years, even taking into account his excellent character and lack of any convictions, military or otherwise.”

Strawbridge was straight off the mark in refuting this.

“But if we send him to prison he'll have to be dismissed from the army as well. The man's a damned good soldier but, of course, must go inside. However, if we send him to the Military Corrective Training Centre in Colchester, then he starts again as a private soldier. He's only 35, after all – he might even regain some of his rank in time.”

I shook my head.

“I understand the dilemma here, Major Strawbridge, but think of what he actually did. The maximum sentence at the Military Corrective Training Centre is only two years and, quite frankly, that would be a wholly inadequate punishment.”

“I'm damned if I accept that. We need to look at the military interest too. Cockaigne is one of our finest soldiers – he's even been commended for bravery on active service. I say we go for the military option and urge...”

“Please remember that the sentence we ultimately pass is for
all
the members to decide,” I cut in, “and I'll open it up for deliberation in a moment. However, my advice remains unchanged. Coming from me, as the judge, it should carry a lot of weight – as you well know, Major.”

I looked round the table. A young female captain looked as if she were about to cry and Robin Gabfern's face was furrowed in a frown.

“Anyway, the proper procedure is to ask the junior member first and then go up the ranks.”

A young lieutenant, stuttering slightly, indicated that he felt that dismissal had to be a matter for his superiors. He was followed by a hoary warrant officer from a Scots regiment.

“Well, I've known many scrotes like Bisley in my time, if you'll pardon the expression, but it's up to you officers really to decide what should be done for the army's sake.”

I turned to the female captain, who blushed.

“I-I'm a nurse so don't have much experience of the disciplinary process but I do think that it's very harsh to send him to prison after all he's done for us.”

“Nevertheless, he's committed a serious offence and lied about it. What sort of example do we set to the other soldiers if we don't get rid of him?” the warrant officer added.

“So that leaves you then, Brigadier?” I asked Gabfern.

“Terrible, terrible shame to have to get rid of this man. What he did was horrible, but we do train them to fight and he
was
severely provoked. However, we must take the judge advocate's advice – he is the expert.”

“
Legal
not
military,
” Strawbridge sneered. “Think what we lose if we discharge him? How can any civilian lawyer assess that?”

Biting my tongue to suppress my anger, I extracted a book from a pile in front of me and turned to a tagged page.

“You needn't just accept this from me. It's all in the Military Court Sentencing Guide, and I can quote chapter and verse:

I looked up.

“Substantial means a term of at least three years. Had he pleaded guilty we might have been able to reduce it, but that's not the case. Moreover, Cockaigne could have killed Bisley had he severed an artery. Four years must be the right sentence.”

Three of the members nodded reluctantly.

“Two years' detention, I say,” Strawbridge spluttered, “but I know I'm outvoted. Just remember what we're doing to this bloody man's life, that's all. We were told that he's divorced and has no family so he'll land up on the streets as an alcoholic, I expect.”

Gabfern rounded on him.

“Major Strawbridge, please remember that uttering such immoderate remarks in front of junior officers is quite unacceptable.”

“Very sorry…
sir
!” Strawbridge barked, using that peculiar army tone of voice which, although sounding subservient, denoted profound disagreement.

Indeed Cockaigne used the same tone of voice, as he stood to attention after the sentence of imprisonment and dismissal was pronounced.

“Thank you…
sir
!”

Back in my room, I became aware of the sudden atmosphere of hostility which sometimes grew instantaneously after a court martial had reached an unpopular decision. The hitherto helpful court orderly took his time in bringing me a cup of tea and when it did appear some of the contents had been slopped in the saucer. In the members' room next door I could hear low muttering, mainly from Strawbridge.

A minute later, Robin Gabfern appeared at my doorway.

“Damn shame really, Charles, to finish that soldier's career but you legal chaps always know best. Easier I suppose, to be on the right side of a desk than the wrong side of a gun. But then you're not in the army, are you?”

He turned away before I could answer, stung by his remark.

A feeling of isolation washed over me for a moment. Life working with the British military in the middle of Germany could prove to be very trying on occasion.

I was packing my robes, making ready to leave, when Harry Chess appeared at the door.

“Sir, would you mind not leaving yet? There's another case in the offing involving a squaddie called Caley. He's been charged with possessing three tablets of ecstasy, found in his wallet which he dropped somewhere here on Dortmund Garrison. The convening officer has asked whether we could deal with it today.”

Surely the convening officer should have come in himself to ask, I thought, but then remembered how upset the regiment were over Cockaigne.

“I'm quite happy if they can convene a court at such short notice. When did this happen?”

“Only two weeks ago, but I've had a word with his defence lawyer, Amy Earnshaw, and her client wants to get the case over as soon as possible.”

I nodded. Captain Earnshaw was one of the army's in-house lawyers posted to Dortmund and who often undertook defence work. She was reputed to be very able and many soldiers preferred to be represented by her rather than a civilian lawyer.

“That's fine if they can set it up today.”

Except that I dreaded Strawbridge being involved. Happily, that proved not to be the case. Strawbridge was due to go on leave, so Robin Gabfern was asked to be the president instead.

Early one morning, lying on the ground, a wallet had been found just inside Dortmund camp. Handed in to the guardroom immediately, examination of its contents soon led to the identification of the owner as his army pass was inside. Further examination also led to a small cellophane package falling out and the guard commander, suspecting what this might contain, looked a bit closer. When he saw that the packet contained triangular tablets, marked with tiny wings, he knew exactly what they were: Ecstasy, the drug of the moment. All NCOs had been instructed to report any evidence of the new drug to the RMP, and, in due course, Private Caley was arrested.

So now, a district court martial (three members, as opposed to five) had been convened to try the case. After the formalities, the defendant pleaded guilty to the charge of possession of a Class-A drug. Captain Earnshaw rose to her feet.

“Sir, members of the court,” she said. “My client has admitted the possession of these tablets because, legally, he had no alternative. He accepts that he put them in his wallet, but there are special circumstances which you should take into account when you come to sentence.

“Moreover, he is also well aware that usually a dishonourable discharge is well-nigh inevitable for this sort of offence but when you hear what actually happened you may take a different view.”

“Fair enough, Captain Earnshaw,” I said. “Probably the best way of dealing with this is for you to call your client to give his account after the prosecution informs us of the basic facts. Major Chess can then cross-examine him if he wants.”

Caley duly went into the box. After Chess' opening, his counsel soon established that he had joined the army only 18 months before, partly to escape a wretched background in the North East of England. Abandoned as a child, he and his younger brother had been brought up in Newcastle where the latter had developed a drug problem.

On his first leave, Caley visited his brother, Joe, who was now living in a hostel for reformed drug addicts. The latter was now ‘clean' – no longer taking heroin or cocaine – but still in the habit of popping the odd ecstasy pill at nightclubs.

Caley, mindful of what he had been told whilst in the army about the harmful effects of ecstasy, was furious and a row ensued. Eventually Joe handed over the few pills he had in his possession, which Caley said he would destroy. The two brothers then went into town and hit the beer together. Caley, after spending the night on his brother's sofa, departed the next day, having forgotten all about the pills which he had stuffed in the back of his wallet.

Now, an anxious-looking Caley stood in the witness box.

“Did you ever remember having those pills in your possession, before you lost your wallet?” asked Captain Earnshaw.

“No, ma'am. Thing was, the next day my bro' and me had a helluva hangover. I almost missed my train back to Hull to catch the ferry. Day after that I was at work cleaning tanks ready for parade. Friday, we all goes down to Brazilla's for the evening and I must have dropped me wallet on the way home. Right hammered, I was.”

This was hardly surprising news. Madame Brazilla's was a notorious nightclub (which also doubled as a brothel) situated just outside the perimeter of the compound, much frequented by squaddies determined to get drunk.

“I don't think that it's in dispute that when you realized you'd lost your wallet you trooped over to the guardroom straightaway to claim it back. Did you think about the drugs at all then?”

“I never thought, ma'am – I'd forgotten all about them. I wouldn't have gone otherwise.”

Chess did not challenge his account and asked only one question.

“Even if you hadn't gone to the guardroom yourself the wallet would have been traced back to you as the ID card was in there all the time, wasn't it?”

“I suppose so, sir – yeah.”

So, once again we were engaged in the sentencing process. It was a relief that Strawbridge was not present and I would be able to explain the sentencing principles without him chipping in.

“Possession of any sort of illegal drug is, quite rightly, always regarded as a serious matter in the army. The sentencing guidelines are clear enough. If a Class A drug is involved, dismissal is usually automatic following a period of detention in Colchester.”

Robin Gabfern nodded.

“I agree absolutely, and this approach has been debated right up the chain of command to a very senior level. No soldier touching drugs can be allowed to remain in the army. An example must be set and there can be no exceptions.”

I frowned, shaking my head.

“Brigadier, that's not completely correct. A court martial is a court of law like any other and we must assess each case judicially. That means on its merits.”

Gabfern bridled at this.

“Sir, I don't need to be reminded of our responsibilities. I must say that although you're here to tell us about the law disciplinary matters are the concern of the army high command and I, as a brigadier, am best placed to speak on their behalf.”

“Of course I accept that, Brigadier, but we must look at the facts of each individual case. Nobody is suggesting that Caley brought the drugs back to Germany for his own use. What we heard from him is that he confiscated them from his brother. Of course, he should have flushed them down the lavatory or got rid of them in some other way but he said he forgot about them altogether.”

“Isn't that the rub? The pills are nestling in his wallet all the time, yet he never notices them. Realization should have struck him at some point.”

“Well, the fact is it didn't. In fairness, he only had the drugs in his wallet for a relatively short period before losing it after leaving Brasilla's. We must give him the benefit of the doubt and accept what he says.”

Gabfern sighed.

“All right, on that basis I think we can reduce any custodial sentence we need to pass – say to 28 days – but dismissal must still apply. He was in illegal possession of a Class-A drug: an absolute deterrent is required.”

“I think you've made your position clear enough, Brigadier, but you shouldn't have done before hearing the views of the junior members, which is the rule,” I protested.

“Oh, I agree with him though,” the young female captain said. “There's no place in the service for people found with drugs.”