Heaven's Door (23 page)

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Authors: Michael Knaggs

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“With respect to my learned colleague, m'lord, I am at a loss as to the point of these questions. The defendant has pleaded not guilty, so he will obviously deny any familiarity with anything incriminating found at his house. However, I will wait my turn.”

“Indeed you
will,
” said the judge. “Ms Prentiss?”

“I have no further questions, m'lord, but I would point out that the answers given by Mr Midanda are consistent with those of an
innocent
person, as he will remain unless proved otherwise.”

She took her seat with a fierce glare towards her opponent.

Jeremy rose from his seat.

“Mr Midanda, can you remember when it was decided to hold the party at Etherington Place?”

“Well, it wasn't exactly
my
party, so …”

“Let me put it another way; when did
you
first learn about the party? Can you remember?”

Jason paused for a moment.

“Yes, it was when I saw Katey – my girlfriend – on the Saturday before. She'd just asked her mum and…”

“So that would be six days before the party itself?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“Now, with you being very close to both Jack and Katey, am I right in assuming that you would know about it before it was
generally
known and certainly before people were actually invited?”

“Yes, I guess you would be right.”

“Thank you, Mr Midanda.”

He walked slowly from his seat and stood beside the jury, pausing for a long time before he spoke again.

“Mr Midanda, can you think of
anyone
who would want to carry out such an incredibly elaborate scam in order to put you in this position?”

Jason was silent for a long time.

“Well, no, I can't …”

“In fact, can you think of anyone you know being
capable
of such a multifaceted conspiracy involving so many people?”

Jason hesitated again.

“No, I can't, but …”

“Then how can you and your counsel
possibly
expect anyone in this courtroom to believe it? It is, in fact,
unbelievable
, isn't it?”

“No it's not!” Jason shouted his reply. “
I
believe it! I believe it because it
fucking well
happened
!”

“I don't think so, Mr Midanda. No further questions, m'lord.”

*

Week 10; Tuesday, 26 May…

Tom looked at the clock on his bedside table – 2:37am. He sat up in bed and realised he was sweating profusely. The sheets were wet and his boxer shorts were sticking painfully to him. He got out of bed and paced the room for a long time.

Eventually he lay down on top of the duvet and stared at the ceiling, drifting in and out of shallow sleep. Sitting up, he checked the time again – 5.05. He swung his legs off the bed and reached for his mobile.

“Tom?” Grace's voice was hoarse. “Do you know what time it is?”

“You said phone any time, day or night, remember?” he said.

“Yes, but that was when …”

“I need your support with something. Something that's more important to me than I can tell you … I know we've had our differences recently, Grace, but I hope you'll …”

“Forget that, Tom,” she interrupted. “That was nothing, a misunderstanding. We can work that out later. But what…?”

“It's the exiling of the drug-runners. We need to reverse it. Today
,
this morning! Right now!”

There was silence for a few moments.

“Tom, did I hear you right? It's just after five o'clock, for God's sake.”

“No time to lose, Grace. I can be at Westminster in less than two hours from now. I'm going to contact Andrew so that he can get me in front of the House before start of business – immediately after prayers. I need you to go and see him as early as possible and tell him you support this. He'll listen to you. With your help…”

“Tom, it's not going to happen.”

“It will if you persuade him. He wasn't all that happy about it anyway. Tell him I've been rethinking the whole thing because of public concern – you know what to say.”

“But, Tom, I …”

“Look, by midday, or mid-afternoon at the latest, it will be confirmed that Jack is guilty.”

“You mean
found
guilty. Surely you don't…”


Just listen, Grace!
” Tom yelled down the phone. “I haven't got time for semantics! It doesn't matter how you say it, does it? I have got to make this statement before …”

“Before when, Tom? The House doesn't sit today until two-thirty, but that's academic, anyway. Andrew hasn't seen you in nearly six weeks. Even if he agreed with you about reversing it, there is no way he's going to let you walk straight back in and make a statement to the House. As I said,
it isn't going to happen!

“It will if you have a word with him.”


No it won't!
Stop saying that! I'll do anything possible to help Jack. But what you want is
im
possible. Don't ask me to do this. Don't set me up to fail you … to fail Jack. That's not fair!”

“Christ, Grace, just listen to yourself! I'm trying to save my son's life, my own life, my marriage, and you're talking about what's fair to
you!
” Tom was yelling.

Grace shouted back. “Your
marriage
! You're asking me to help you save your
marriage
? When all you've done for years is encourage me to
ruin
it!”

“I didn't mean my marriage, Grace, I'm not thinking straight at all. I don't
care
about that. It's Jack, only Jack … Oh, God. You've got to help me.
Please
!”

“I can't do what you ask, Tom. But listen to me.
If
Jack is found guilty…”

“There's no ‘if', Grace.”


Listen to me!
If he is found guilty and even if he is sentenced today to life-exile …”

“He will be.”


If
all that happens, it will take months for the final stage to be reached. You have all that time to work at reversing the legislation – or proving his innocence. Just think about it. And another thing, how would Jack feel if the worst happens and he looks across and you're not there. He'd think you'd disowned him or something.”

“Yes, of course. I couldn't do that.”

He ended the call without another word.

*

Jeremy Forsythe QC rose at 10.15 am in a tense, packed courtroom. People were leaning forward in their seats in anticipation and there was a low hum of conversation which ceased abruptly as the barrister swept his eyes around the gallery.

“I will not keep you long,” he said, turning to speak directly to the jury. “I am sure, in fact, that you have individually all reached your decision, the
same
decision, in this dreadfully sad affair. I do not propose to go over again the damning evidence given by those honest people who are far more qualified than me to present the details of the case. I can add nothing to the volume of proof you have already heard, absorbed, and will have considered – or
will
consider – in reaching your collective conclusion.

“The Defence, of course, will throw in a few red herrings in an attempt to shake your resolve. That is to be expected in the absence of anything they have of their own which is even approaching substantial. Perhaps a good example of that is counsel's attempt to raise doubts based on the
consistency
of the statements of the four users who came forward to testify – the fact that they were all so similar. Just how desperate must they be to resort to that?” He smiled at the jury. “Usually, on these occasions they are highlighting
in
consistencies – irregularities – between testimonies.

“You might ask yourself why the Defence counsel did not exercise their prerogative to question the three people whose
similar
statements were read out. Was it, perhaps, that they felt their very consistency would undermine the whole argument?

“They have mentioned how much it would cost to acquire the drugs, asking you to accept that it is unlikely that the defendants would have the means to do so. How much
less
likely is it, though, that someone would spend the
same
amount of money just to place the drugs somewhere where they could
never
be sold, where they would have no chance to recoup the cost of purchasing them?”

“They have attempted to discredit the evidence provided by the CCTV and direct police surveillance – trivialising the point that a total of eight known users had approached one of the defendants – some on more than one occasion. You must decide whether you want to simply overlook that – although I doubt if you will.

“The defendants
themselves
could not identify anyone who might want to do them harm – let alone undertake such an elaborate and costly scam involving so many people. And even if they had been able to point the finger – how could the placing of the evidence in the respective houses have been achieved? The Defence says one portion was planted during the break-in at Mr Midanda's house. And they are right – as Detective Inspector Waters agreed – that it is
just
possible. You have to weigh the probability of that being the case alongside the rest of the evidence against them, and ask yourselves how likely it is that someone would break in to eight houses just to plant evidence in one.

“But what of Etherington Place? The Defence points out that there was a party there the day after the break-in at the Midandas'. But we have heard that security was extremely tight on that night, with everyone accounted for – and searched – going in and out of the grounds. And for the rest of the time, well the property is like a fortress – an impregnable castle. Let us recap on what Mr Michaels, the security officer in charge of the property, told us on the first day of this trial.”

He consulted his notes.

“The house is surrounded by a wall, eight feet high and with a two-foot-high electric fence on top of it all the way round the perimeter. The only access to the grounds is through a pair of ten-foot high iron gates, the top sections of which are also electrified. These gates are alarmed and can only be opened using a hand-held remote control or by inputting a five-digit code into a keypad at the side of the entrance. The five-digit code, which is changed every seven days, also deactivates the alarm, which is re-activated as soon as the gates are closed.

“Inside the gates, between the perimeter wall and the house itself, at various points throughout the grounds, there are laser censors, criss-crossing the gardens and wooded areas, plus a total of ten CCTV cameras which together cover the whole of the grounds, including the inside of the boundary walls and the outside of the house. The live images from these cameras are monitored continuously by full-time security officers based at a control centre within one mile of the house.

“As to the house itself, there are locks and alarms on all three exterior doors, the inner door of the front porch and all windows. There are four more cameras inside – in the hall, the main living room, the kitchen, which has an exterior door, and one covering the long corridor on the first floor from which there is single access to all the upstairs rooms. As I said before, more of a fortress – an impregnable castle – than a house.

“To achieve what the Defence will ask you to believe would take something magical – and evil. A wicked wizard, perhaps! They will encourage you to ignore the facts and accept the fantasy; and on what basis? That a number of disparate, albeit well-meaning individuals – most of whom are only able to observe the defendants for a few hours a week in a crowd of people – tell us that actually these are two really good, nice, friendly people.”

He paused, looking from the jury across to the defendants then back to the jury.

“Well, I have seen little or no evidence of those glowing qualities in this court over the course of this trial.”

“Impregnable castles and wicked wizards are the stuff of fairy tales. The question you each need to ask yourself is this … Do I believe in
fairies
…
or do I believe in
justice
?”

He beamed at the jury then the public gallery, then walked to his chair and sat down, swirling his gown around him with a theatrical flourish as he did so. He leant back in his seat; arms folded and face set in an expression of satisfied triumph.

There was a murmuring in the public gallery accompanied by nodding heads and knowing looks as the judge looked to the Defence counsel, inviting her to respond. Lorna Prentiss rose from her chair and walked very slowly towards the jury, stopping short and turning to address the court as a whole.

“First, let me forewarn you that I shall not be trying to amuse you with fairy tales. In my opinion, which clearly differs from that of my learned colleague, Guildford Crown Court is
not
a forum for entertainment. It is a place where we should be working together to make sure that one of the most important decisions that we will ever be involved with is the correct one. You,” she turned to the jury, “must decide the fate of these two young gentlemen. These are two successful, well-behaved, popular young men, the vast majority of whose lives lie before them. You have the power to decide what sort of life that will be. There can be no more serious responsibility than that.

“Let me start by saying that what was so casually discarded as an impossibility by the Crown is what really
did
happen at Jack Tomlinson-Brown's home in Etherington Place. Someone
did
breach security; someone
did
put the drugs there. It must have happened like that, because the drugs
were
there and the defendant knew nothing about them.

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