application . But Joe was more interested in Ronnie’s feelings.
Joe rose to his feet. ‘I do, my Lord.’
The judge raised his eyebrows, thick and white under his wig. ‘I’ve read the papers.’
‘I’m pleased, my Lord, because the flaws in the prosecution case are obvious.’
The judge sat back and seemed amused. ‘Please enlighten me.’
Joe glanced towards the screen. Ronnie was leaning forward, his expression keen. The detectives were sitting back, smirking, thinking that they had the judge on their side. What they didn’t know was that Joe had been first into the courtroom and a warm smile from him had made the court clerk let slip that the judge wasn’t impressed with the case. Perhaps not enough to let Ronnie stay free until his trial, but at least it gave Joe a chance.
‘The case is built on three things,’ Joe said. ‘Blood, an argument, and a confession.’
‘And two missing people.’
‘That’s the crucial word, my Lord. Missing, not dead. What if my client spends months incarcerated and then the deceased walks into the court, his daughter in a pushchair? It has to be a possibility. The blood? We’ve got smears, that’s all. Nothing to age it yet, and his girlfriend lived there too. There was an argument, and not for the first time. It is a real leap to say that he must have killed his girlfriend, and then his own daughter.’
‘What about the confession?’ the judge said. ‘He walked into a police station and admitted killing his partner.’
‘It depends which confession you mean,’ Joe said. ‘I counted at least three. So which one is it? “I’ve killed her”? “I think I’ve killed her”? Or “It’s my fault, I’ve killed her”? We don’t want another Derek Bentley case of “Let him have it, Chris”, where people lose everything on a nuance. Does the prosecution have it recorded anywhere?’
The judge turned to Kim. ‘Miss Reader?’
She rose to her feet, Joe giving way to her. ‘If your Lordship means whether it is captured on CCTV, the answer is no.’
‘But three accounts?’ the judge said.
‘One account from the person who heard it, and two accounts from people to whom he recounted it. Their recollections may be flawed, but we have an account from the person who heard it.’
‘Who might have got it wrong, by the sounds of it.’
Kim didn’t respond.
‘And the blood?’ the judge continued. ‘Can you prove it is recent?’
‘I’m told we can age the blood. We will seek to do that, but it is too early in the case to have that evidence available.’
‘So at the moment you can’t age the smears?’
Kim shook her head. ‘No, my Lord.’ A flush developed in her cheeks.
‘So we can’t be sure what was said and we can’t be sure how long the blood has been there?’
‘No, my Lord,’ Kim said, her voice getting quieter.
‘And so all you have is an argument and two missing people.’
Joe felt a glow of anticipation that the case was turning his way. The judge paused and looked up at the television, at Ronnie craning forward, anxious.
Joe scribbled on a piece of paper and slid it along the desk to Kim.
Kim glanced down and read it. Agree bail and I won’t say anything else about the evidence. Let it go to trial. She took a couple of deep breaths and turned to the back of the courtroom, to the detectives who were now leaning forward, their arms over the brass rail of the public gallery. She looked at Joe, who winked. He knew his words were still in her mind, that he could try to get the judge to dislike the case from the start.
‘My Lord, the prosecution haven’t asked for the defendant to be remanded in custody,’ she said. Her voice was quiet, and she blinked at the sound of the two detectives walking briskly out of court, their moods discernible from the thumps of their hands against the door. ‘Bail would be appropriate, with conditions, if your Lordship approves.’
‘Does he have any convictions?’
‘A minor assault a
Joe rose to his feet. ‘I do, my Lord.’
The judge raised his eyebrows, thick and white under his wig. ‘I’ve read the papers.’
‘I’m pleased, my Lord, because the flaws in the prosecution case are obvious.’
The judge sat back and seemed amused. ‘Please enlighten me.’
Joe glanced towards the screen. Ronnie was leaning forward, his expression keen. The detectives were sitting back, smirking, thinking that they had the judge on their side. What they didn’t know was that Joe had been first into the courtroom and a warm smile from him had made the court clerk let slip that the judge wasn’t impressed with the case. Perhaps not enough to let Ronnie stay free until his trial, but at least it gave Joe a chance.
‘The case is built on three things,’ Joe said. ‘Blood, an argument, and a confession.’
‘And two missing people.’
‘That’s the crucial word, my Lord. Missing, not dead. What if my client spends months incarcerated and then the deceased walks into the court, his daughter in a pushchair? It has to be a possibility. The blood? We’ve got smears, that’s all. Nothing to age it yet, and his girlfriend lived there too. There was an argument, and not for the first time. It is a real leap to say that he must have killed his girlfriend, and then his own daughter.’
‘What about the confession?’ the judge said. ‘He walked into a police station and admitted killing his partner.’
‘It depends which confession you mean,’ Joe said. ‘I counted at least three. So which one is it? “I’ve killed her”? “I think I’ve killed her”? Or “It’s my fault, I’ve killed her”? We don’t want another Derek Bentley case of “Let him have it, Chris”, where people lose everything on a nuance. Does the prosecution have it recorded anywhere?’
The judge turned to Kim. ‘Miss Reader?’
She rose to her feet, Joe giving way to her. ‘If your Lordship means whether it is captured on CCTV, the answer is no.’
‘But three accounts?’ the judge said.
‘One account from the person who heard it, and two accounts from people to whom he recounted it. Their recollections may be flawed, but we have an account from the person who heard it.’
‘Who might have got it wrong, by the sounds of it.’
Kim didn’t respond.
‘And the blood?’ the judge continued. ‘Can you prove it is recent?’
‘I’m told we can age the blood. We will seek to do that, but it is too early in the case to have that evidence available.’
‘So at the moment you can’t age the smears?’
Kim shook her head. ‘No, my Lord.’ A flush developed in her cheeks.
‘So we can’t be sure what was said and we can’t be sure how long the blood has been there?’
‘No, my Lord,’ Kim said, her voice getting quieter.
‘And so all you have is an argument and two missing people.’
Joe felt a glow of anticipation that the case was turning his way. The judge paused and looked up at the television, at Ronnie craning forward, anxious.
Joe scribbled on a piece of paper and slid it along the desk to Kim.
Kim glanced down and read it. Agree bail and I won’t say anything else about the evidence. Let it go to trial. She took a couple of deep breaths and turned to the back of the courtroom, to the detectives who were now leaning forward, their arms over the brass rail of the public gallery. She looked at Joe, who winked. He knew his words were still in her mind, that he could try to get the judge to dislike the case from the start.
‘My Lord, the prosecution haven’t asked for the defendant to be remanded in custody,’ she said. Her voice was quiet, and she blinked at the sound of the two detectives walking briskly out of court, their moods discernible from the thumps of their hands against the door. ‘Bail would be appropriate, with conditions, if your Lordship approves.’
‘Does he have any convictions?’
‘A minor assault a
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