Heaven's Door (22 page)

“State your name, please.”

“Mickey Kadawe.”

“And could you tell the court your address and occupation?”

“Manston Grange off Grindalls Road in Woking. And I'm the manager-stroke-agent for a number of professional and semi-professional rock artists and bands, including Lilli Bo-Peep, Abattoir Ratts and Chick Eater.”

“A very impressive client list, Mr Kadawe, if I may say so,” said Lorna. “You know why you are here today – to provide an insight into the lives of Jack and Jason. I am fully aware of your close friendship with both men, but I remind you that you are under oath and should not try to embroider the truth for their benefit. I believe, as I'm sure you do, that the pure and simple truth is all that is necessary to convince the court of their good character.” Mickey nodded and smiled at Lorna who continued. “Could you describe in your own words how you come to know the defendants, starting with Jason?”

“Sure, I've known Jay for nearly nine years, since we were both in the same junior school, although in different years. Most of the kids were white and we just sort of came together with some of the other black kids. I always thought of myself as like a big brother to him. And we kept in touch after he got a scholarship for Bishop's and even after … well … even after I left school.”

“Tell the court why you left the school, Mr Kadawe.”

“I was sent to a young offenders' institute after someone got hurt in a fight I was in. I was fifteen-years-old and it followed a number of other convictions for things like theft, disruptive behaviour, fighting – just normal kids stuff, really. I sort of fell apart after my dad went back to South Africa.”

“And following your detention?”

“Well, I guess it did the trick. I've not been in trouble since then – that's nearly five years now.”

“Thank you for being honest with the court, Mr Kadawe. And during the nine years you have known him, you have always been close to Jason?”

“Yes – and quite literally now, in fact. He hangs out at my house quite a lot – when he's not at college. We play pool; just chill out together really, like you do. And I know he's there when I'm away, because my work takes up a lot of time now.”

“And has he ever been in trouble during the time you've known him?”

“Not once. I don't think he'd know how to get into trouble if he wanted to. He's absolutely squeaky clean – probably been a good influence on me.” He smiled again at Lorna, who gave a little laugh.

“And Jack, how did you come to meet him?”

“Well, through Jason. One night, we all ended up – the three of us – in an alley together facing off a bunch of guys who were getting at Jay for some reason,” he glanced up at Katey in the gallery. “Anyway, we saw them off, and after that me and Jack have been best buddies really. That happened around eighteen months ago, I guess.”

“And do you see much of Jack as well?”

“Yes, he stays over at the house at least a couple of nights a week, sometimes three or four, so I see him probably more than I do Jason.”

Tom sucked in a breath causing Mags and Katey to look briefly across at him.

“So you see both of them regularly?”

“Just about every day of every week when I'm not working away.”

“And you would know if either man was dealing in banned substances – hard drugs?”

Mickey laughed. “It's unbelievable! The whole thing is a farce. I doubt if Jack has ever had a single criminal thought in his entire life. There is absolutely no way he – or Jason – could have done this. Never in a million years.”

“Thank you, Mr Kadawe.”

Jeremy sprang to his feet.

“Mr Kadawe, I bet you of all people, with your background,
never in a million years
expected to appear as a character witness for the Defence in a court of law. But it's happened nonetheless, hasn't it?”

Mickey remained silent.

“Can you remember how many times you were charged with offences between the ages of twelve and fifteen?”

“No, it's all in the past.”

“Twenty-seven times, Mr Kadawe, I'm not surprised you can't …”

“
Master
Kadawe, to be accurate.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Well, at the time I was Master Kadawe, not Mister. It was a long time ago. I was just a kid.”

“And can you remember what those charges were?”

“Not all of them individually. I've just given some examples. Ancient history was never one of my best subjects.”

“Burglary, mugging, threatening behaviour – to two of the teachers at your school, in fact, on separate occasions – vandalism, assault, stealing a car – twice, supplying drugs – at school! Shall I go on?”

“Please do, it's all water under the bridge as far as I'm concerned. Oh, and by the way, I didn't steal a car twice, I stole two different cars.”

There was some laughter in the courtroom and Miles Pendle had a quiet smile behind his hand.

“Well, I'm glad you think this is amusing, Mr Kadawe. If I was either of the defendants I'd be very concerned if you were the best person my counsel could find to give me a character reference.” He turned to the jury. “I can only assume that the Defence feels that the witness's presence in that role might generate some sympathy on behalf of the accused. That is the
only
reason I can think of for getting him here.”

Mickey's composure suddenly gave way to anger “Look this is fucking stupid!”

Miles Pendle was quick to step in.

“Mr Kadawe, I will not stand for that sort of language in my court! I will refrain from taking any action because of your behaviour so far in the face of the Crown's goading. But I will not allow a repeat, do you understand?”

“Yes, I apologise, your honour,” said Mickey. “But what I mean is that the whole thing is ridiculous. You don't know these guys. Jack is the biggest goody-two-shoes in the world.”

“Mr Kadawe…” the judge again.

“I bet he's never had an overdue library book. If he spit in the street, he'd turn himself in.
And
Jason. They wouldn't know cocaine from cocoa.”

“Mr Kadawe! You will stop right now. You are here to answer the specific questions put to you by counsel; that's all.”

“But
he
hasn't asked me
anything
about Jack and Jason. It's been all about me. Hey, I admit I've been a bad boy in the past, okay? But these guys? No way!”

“Your honour,” Jeremy said. “I do think this witness should be removed if he can't…”

“M'lord,” Lorna interrupted him, “Mr Kadawe has been called as a character witness for the defendants and, whereas, of course, I cannot condone his indiscretion, I think we can recognise his frustration at the questions being put to him by the Prosecution.”

“We have every right to challenge a witness's suitability to provide an assessment of another person's behaviour and character. And it seems reasonable to assume that a witness's
own
personal history – recent
or
ancient – would have a huge impact on what he or she regards as
acceptable
behaviour and
good
character. It is for the Defence to draw out the witness's views and for the Prosecution to examine their validity. And I suggest, m'lord, that is precisely what has just transpired. And, furthermore,” he added, “it mirrors exactly what the Defence attempted to do – unsuccessfully, I might add – with a number of the Crown's witnesses earlier in the proceedings.”

“If it pleases …”

“It does
not,
Ms Prentiss.” Miles Pendle turned to Mickey.

“Mr Kadawe, you may stand down. Thank you for your testimony.” He turned to address the jury as Mickey left the witness stand with obvious reluctance. “Mr Forsythe is quite correct in pointing out that he is within his rights to challenge the suitability of the witness and the integrity of his testimony. However, you should
not
be influenced by the last witness's outburst and use of the f-word word. It is, after all, just a word, and one which is in such common use now as to carry very little weight even as a means of emphasis. What you
should
concern yourself with is the sincerity and relevance of Mr Kadawe's observations.”

He consulted some papers in front of him.

“Ms Prentiss, am I to understand that you will next be calling the defendants to take the stand?”

“That is correct, m'lord.”

Jeremy Forsythe got to his feet.

“Excuse me, your honour, but I had expected that the Defence would be calling Katey Tomlinson-Brown.”

Miles Pendle sighed.

“And why would you expect that, Mr Forsythe?”

“Well, for the same reason as the last witness was called. Someone who has been very close to both defendants, being the sister of one and the partner of the other.”

The judge transferred the question to the Defence counsel with a raising of the eyebrows.

“I shall not be calling anyone else to the stand except the defendants, m'lord.”

“Thank you, Ms Prentiss.”

Jeremy Forsythe sat down with a noisy flourish.

“The time is twelve-fifteen. I would normally call a recess for lunch at this time and reconvene in approximately one hour. However, I feel it is important that we hear from both defendants on the same day, and I do not believe we will have time this afternoon. For that reason, I am now calling an end to today's proceedings. Please be back in court for ten o'clock prompt on Monday morning. Good afternoon.”

*

Tom pulled into the drive at Etherington Place. Mags got out of the car almost before it had stopped and walked quickly to the house. Tom ran after her, catching up just as she entered the porch. Mrs McGovern, their housekeeper, was waiting for them in the hall. Her eyes were watery and red and her whole body seemed to sag with the weight of her sadness.

“I was going to do dinner for around seven o'clock,” she said, in a shaky whisper. “But I could do lunch instead. Just something light.”

Mags shook her head.

“Not for me, thank you, Millie.”

“You must eat something. It won't help Jack if …”

“
Nothing
is going to help Jack now!” Mags cried, and ran upstairs.

Millicent McGovern broke down herself, covering her face with both hands. Tom put his arms around her and held her to him.

“Everybody's doing all they can, Millie. It's not over yet. I'll try to get Mags to come down, but I'll have some lunch anyway, please. Then you can get an early finish.”

He held her until she had recovered her composure and smiled gently as she stepped away from him. He went upstairs to see Mags. She was sitting in Jack's room on his bed, staring at the wardrobe as if the object itself was the source of all her grief.

“Darling, do come and have something to eat.”

Mags remained silent.

“Perhaps I should ask Katey to come back,” he said. “I'm sure Leila will be alright on her own and I think you need her here – we both need her.”

“Did you expect something like this?” she said, turning on him angrily.

“What do you mean?”

“You knew this was coming, didn't you?”

“Knew what was coming? What on earth are you talking about?”

“That night before your speech to the House, you told me you were worried about the children. I asked you if it was anything to do with the NJR, and you didn't answer me.”

“I seem to remember that I didn't answer you because I didn't understand the question.”

“And then the following day you announced this barbaric treatment for drug dealers – which nobody wants, anyway, it seems …”

“Just listen to what you're suggesting, Mags! You're not seriously accusing me of believing that Jack was dealing drugs, and then pushing for a proposal to exile drug dealers? Or
is
that what you're saying?”

“It all fits, now. That's why you didn't answer me.”

“That's why I didn't understand the question!” he shouted. “Because it was based on such a ludicrous assumption! How can you believe that? Perhaps you think I made this change
just
to punish Jack. You know – ‘I'll teach the little bastard. I'll send him away for ever!' Is
that
what you think of me?”

He suddenly gave way, slumping to his knees and covering his face with his hands as the tears came. She instinctively started to go to him, and then held herself back. Neither spoke for several moments while Tom struggled to recover his dignity.

“Tell me, Tom.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “Do you think he's guilty?”

“I don't know. I just don't know. I really want to believe …”

There was another long silence as Tom finally composed himself and rose unsteadily to his feet, rubbing his eyes.

“I'd like to be alone,” said Mags.

“Yes,” he said. “I'll see you later.”

“No, I mean I'd like you to move into another room. Now. This afternoon.”

Tom fought back more tears.

“If … that's what you want.”

“It is. Until this is all over – at least.”

Three days later

Week 10; Monday, 25 May…

Jack entered the courtroom alone. He was pale, hunched, lethargic in his movements and appeared lifeless and disinterested. Lorna Prentiss spoke slowly, as if explaining a difficult concept to a small child.

“Jack, the Prosecution has presented a catalogue of evidence – hard evidence – linking you with the selling of illegal drugs in and around the Woking area. This is your opportunity to convince this court – this jury – that what they have heard from the Crown based on that evidence is incorrect and that you are, in fact, the victim of a malicious deception. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” His reply was barely audible.

“You will need to speak up,” said Miles Pendle, “so everyone can hear what you are saying.”

“You have seen images,” continued Lorna, “allegedly of you, which were captured on security cameras in Delaware Street in Woking on a number of occasions earlier this year.” She raised her eyebrows, inviting a response. Jack remained silent, his eyes unfocused, head slightly bowed. “Can you confirm that those images were, in fact, of you?”

“Yes.” His voice was still not much more than a whisper.

“Mr Tomlinson-Brown,” said the judge, “please …”

“Yes!” snapped Jack, his head turning briefly towards him, eyes flashing. There was a buzz of surprise around the room. Lorna continued quickly.

“They showed you meeting with and talking to some people there. Can you explain what was going on?”

“No!” Jack almost shouted his response this time. Even Jeremy Forsythe looked a little uncomfortable.

“What I mean is, could you tell us what happened?”

Jack looked across at her for a few moments before answering. “I just told you, I don't know.”

“Mr Tomlinson-Brown,” Miles Pendle boomed at him. “This is
your
counsel, putting
your
case to the jury. I strongly advise you to try and help her.”

Jack shook his head violently with a noise somewhere between a snort and a sigh. “I have no idea what's going on,” he shouted, “so I'm not sure
how
I can help her.”

Lorna turned to Miles Pendle. “M'lord, could I request a brief recess whilst I speak to my client?”

“I think that's a very good idea, Ms Prentiss. I am sure when you do you will make him understand just how critical this part of the proceedings is, although I am very surprised as to why it should be necessary to do so. Court is adjourned for thirty minutes.”

*

There was a buzz of anticipation as Jack was led back into the courtroom and Lorna stood in readiness to begin.

“Jack, it's very important that you explain satisfactorily to the court the circumstances surrounding the incidents on Delaware Street in Woking where you were approached separately by a number of different people. As you have heard, all those involved were known drug users, so clearly we need to establish why they approached you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” said Jack.

“Let's start with the most recent incident. This took place just after six o'clock in the early evening of Tuesday 24
^th
March. On this occasion you were observed by one of the investigating team. Do you remember the incident?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell the court what happened?”

“This guy came up to me and said he wanted to deal. That's all.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“He wanted drugs.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“Hard stuff – crack, heroine.”

“How did you know that?”

“They say ‘deal' for hard and ‘trade' for soft.”

“Please tell the court, so there's no misunderstanding, how you come to know the terminology.”

“It's common knowledge. The words they use on the street. Everybody knows that.”

“When you say ‘everybody' you don't mean everybody who uses, deals or trades in drugs. You mean, I think,
all
young people who are familiar with current terms and expressions used on the streets. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Quite. So what happened next?”

“Next when?”

“When this person approached you in the street.”

“I told him to … well … fuck off. I didn't want anything to do with him. I just thought it was mistaken identity. You know, like the rest.”

“And what did he do?”

“Well, he got a bit aggressive. Pushed me; I pushed him back; one or two other people round about got involved. Then it all calmed down and he went. Never saw him again.”

“Thank you, Jack. You said ‘like the rest'. Could you explain what you meant by that.”

Jack visibly sagged, as if the effort so far had drained him. He took a long time to reply. Lorna shuffled her notes impatiently.

“Jack …?”

“There were about six others.” The words came out like a long sigh. “Same thing. Asked me for drugs. I told them the same – fuck off. That's all I can tell you.”

“Why do you think they approached you, Jack?”

“Like I said before. Mistaken identity. They thought I was somebody else.”

He turned his head, looking blankly at the wall at the back of the court, as if he'd said all he was going to say.

“But you can assure the court that nothing passed between you and any of these people?”

Jack looked wearily towards her, then suddenly shouted.

“I've just said what happened! How many different ways do you want to hear it?”

Lorna was silent for a long time before speaking again.

“Can we talk now about the night of the party …”

*

Jeremy stayed in his seat for a long time after Lorna sat down. When he rose it was slowly and with great deliberation.

“Firstly, Mr Tomlinson-Brown, let me congratulate you on your command of drug-related street language. I certainly didn't appreciate the subtle differences in terminology. For someone who claims he has never been anywhere near drugs in his life, you seem remarkably well educated.”

He swept a look of wide-eyed incredulity around the courtroom.

“You told the court that you believe you were a victim of mistaken identity on the
twelve
occasions you were approached by
eight
different people on Delaware Street. One of those eight approached you …” he checked his hand-written notes “…three times, and two others on two separate occasions each. I'm sure the court will find it hard to believe – as I do – that multiple cases of mistaken identity are likely in such clandestine circumstances. It seems incredible that people seeking illegal substances in broad daylight would be that careless. Don't you agree, Mr Tomlinson-Brown?”

Jack had been staring down at the floor in front of him and looked up quickly at the mention of his name. He said nothing.

“I said, don't you agree, Mr Tomlinson-Brown?” Jeremy repeated.

Jack looked blankly around the courtroom and shrugged. “Don't know,” he said.

Jeremy gave a loud sigh and looked across at Lorna with a private, almost apologetic, shrug. He turned back to Jack.

“Mr Tomlinson-Brown, let me recap just
some
of the facts in order to save you having to answer any more unnecessary questions. Eight different
known
drug users approached you asking for drugs over a period of two weeks, some on more than one occasion. Prior to that, seven different people phoned the police, three of whom have since identified you as their supplier. These three are known to have made calls to a phone found hidden in your wardrobe, along with forty-eight bags of crack cocaine. Everything I have just said is
true
. Can you think of
any
context where these facts could apply other than the very obvious one, which is that you are a dealer of Class A drugs?”

Jack said nothing, and his eyes dropped to stare at the floor again.

“The court is waiting, Mr Tomlinson- Brown.”

Still no response.

“Mr Tomlinson-Brown,” Miles Pendle leaned forward, “are you going to answer the question?”

Jack shook his head but remained silent.

“Let me put it another way, Mr Tomlinson-Brown. If you are claiming – as you have – that you are innocent, can you think of anyone who would go to so much trouble to do you this sort of harm? Anyone who has a grudge against you? Anyone who you have upset or annoyed? Anyone you owe money to?
Anyone?
”

Jack continued looking at the floor and gave the slightest shake of the head.

“One final question, then,” said Jeremy. “An easy one. When did you decide to hold the party at Etherington Place?”

Jack shook his head again without looking up.

“Surely you can answer that?” said Jeremy.

“No. Can't remember.”

Jeremy shot a glance at Lorna.

“No further questions, m'lord.”

*

David was halfway through his forty sit-ups when his mobile sounded with an incoming call. He recognised the number.

“Hi,” said Jo. “You sound out of breath. Are you okay?”

“I'm at the gym, and I am certainly
not
out of breath.”

“Just the standard heavy breathing like last time, then. Anyway, just wondered if you got to listen on Thursday.”

“I did and I thought you were great. Not sure whether Mr Forsythe will think so. He seemed to be having trouble getting you on his side. I doubt if you'll be nominated for witness-of-the-year by the Crown Prosecution Service.”

“But it was okay, you think?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you. And the other reason I phoned is that I'm over your way this Thursday to sign the contract for Brantingham Villas. Bit sad really, like signing my past away, but lucky to get a buyer so quickly, I suppose. I wondered if you were free for lunch.”

“That would be great,” said David. “We could go to my new local.”

*

The courtroom settled after the lunch recess as Lorna rose from her seat.

“You have heard the evidence presented by the Crown allegedly linking you with the selling of illegal drugs in and around the Woking area. This is your opportunity to convince the jury that you are in no way connected with this crime and that you are the victim of a malicious deception. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” said Jason.

He projected a very different figure to that of his friend, standing tall and erect in the dock, eyes alert and attentive, as if to ensure he caught and understood every word.

“Could you tell the court, have you ever been approached, directly or by phone, by the witness whose statement was read out earlier and who claimed to be buying drugs from you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you recognise his name or those of any of the three users who phoned the police claiming to have bought drugs from you but who did
not
make statements?”

“No, I haven't heard of any of them. I have no idea what's going on. I only know there's a hell of a lot of liars out there and …”

“Thank you, Jason. Please just answer my questions for the moment. Can you describe what happened in the early hours of the morning on Tuesday 14
^th
April?”

“Well, what happened was exactly what the detective described. There was a hammering on the door at about five o'clock – it scared my girlfriend and my mum half to death. Then they waded in – about ten policemen – and started searching around, mainly in my bedroom. The dog started sniffing the carpet and they ripped it up and found a loose floorboard. They tore that up as well and found this stuff. I'd never seen it before, that's the God's honest truth. I was just amazed! I definitely
wasn't
acting, that's for sure!”

“And have you any idea how it got there?”

“I can only think it was put there during the break-in.”

“What was the place like after the break-in? Was there a lot of mess?”

“A bit, not much. There was nothing smashed or anything, just some stuff pulled out of drawers and that – clothes mainly. Nothing touched that you might expect to go – x-Box, DVD, PC, TV and such. They hadn't been moved.”

“So none of the sort of items which could have been relatively easy to remove had been taken?”

“No, none at all.”

Lorna hesitated. Jeremy rose to his feet to fill the empty few seconds.

“M'lord, I'm not sure where this is taking us. I certainly would not want to curtail the defendant's attempt to support his case, but the court already knows why these items were not taken.” He looked down at his notes. “For example, in one of the houses in the same street where nothing was taken, a five hundred pound digital camera was lying on the table and was left untouched. I thought we had established that the thieves were looking specifically for laptops and these were the only items stolen.” He shrugged and sat down.

“Ms Prentiss?” Miles Pendle invited a response.

“Well, m'lord, the break-in at the Midandas' is the obvious time for the drugs to have been placed in the house. I am merely trying to establish any clues that point specifically to that taking place. However, I will move on.”

She turned back to Jason.

“Along with the drugs which were found in your house, a mobile phone was also recovered. You have been shown the list of numbers that previously contacted that phone?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Do you recognise any of the numbers?”

“No, none at all.”

“Is the number of the phone which was found in your bedroom at all familiar to you?”

“No, it's somebody else's. Has to be.”

Jeremy gave a loud sigh, and Miles Pendle looked questioningly at him. The counsel spread his arms wide in an elaborate shrug.

“Do you have a point to make Mr Forsythe?”