Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The World Out There - 11. Eleven
His trial only really began on the second day. The jury stayed sitting in their seats that day, not forced to leave the courtroom as yet another legal argument played out. The judge had entered the courtroom, that second day, the last person to do so, and again everyone had had to stand up. Once they were all settled down but before any statements were made or witnesses called, the judge turned to the jury and, said:
“You have all heard a lot about this case in our media, and a lot of sensational speculation. Rather too many people have their own opinions on what happened in this case. I want you all to cast out of your minds all you have previously heard about this case and the defendant here. You must only make your judgement on the evidence and facts you hear in this courtroom and nothing else. Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you fully understand me.” The judge then stared at the jury for a long moment, many of them looking away from his stare, moving awkwardly or nervously in their seats, though two of them just stared back at the judge.
Liam didn’t understand why the judge had said that. Did all judges say that at the beginning of each trial, or was it just his judge? He slowly glanced around himself, but the only person he knew that he could see there was Mark Hiller, who was too far away to ask or even catch his attention.
His eyes then fell onto Mr Spencer, the prosecution barrister. The man was staring ahead of himself, nodding to himself as he listened to the judge. Mr Spencer was a strikingly handsome man. He had the striking good looks of a male model or a leading actor: his face was made up of strong and prominent features, so strong that Liam’s eyes were repeatedly drawn back to them, and eyes so brightly blue that they seemed unnatural. Creeping out from under the back of his white and ugly wig were the ends of his sandy-blonde hair. If he’d been an actor on television, Liam would have stared almost in rapture at him, but this man was the prosecution barrister and was working to send him to prison. He didn’t like that thought but he didn’t look away from Mr Spencer for that long moment.
The first actual witness that day was Detective Sargant Jennifer King who looked exactly the way she did when she had questioned him at the police station. She talked a lot about the “crime scene”, in front of the science block, and the “weapon”, his mother’s carving knife. He’d stared down at his feet and tried to ignore what she was saying, trying to keep his attention on his old trainers. Though her voice was cool and even clinical in its tone, what she said was disturbingly real. When she spoke about interviewing him, in the police station, DS King had coolly said he was “uncooperative” by refusing to answer any of her questions.
In her cross-examination of DS King, Mrs Stewart-Graham asked: “In your interview of him, my client did not answer any of your questions, he didn’t say a word?”
“Yes. He refused to answer all my questions.”
“And under British Law, people being questioned by the police have the right to remain silent. The defendant’s solicitor advised him to do so, as you were very much aware of.”
“Innocent people don’t stay silent, only the guilty,” DS King confidently replied.
“And when did you qualify as a psychologist? You told us you were only a police officer,” Mrs Stewart-Graham asked.
“Mrs Stewart-Graham! You will show respect to the police in my court!” the judge snapped at her, making Mrs Stewart-Graham mumble a quick and not very sincere apology.
Then there was a pathologist, a white-haired man with a rolling home country’s accent and dressed in a pin-striped suit. He talked a lot about the “viciousness” of the attack on Rhys Clarke, how many times he was stabbed and how deeply. Liam stared down at his feet again as he heard this. Had he really done all that? He’d only meant to stop Rhys Clarke, to get Rhys Clarke to leave him alone. That pathologist made him sound like a monster. Was he a monster?
Mr Stein, and then Mr Bowley, also gave evidence, both of them painting a dark and violent portrait of him. They told the court how unprovoked his attack on Rhys Clarke was, how he ambushed Rhys Clarke, how shocking his attack was. Again Liam had hung his head down and stared at his feet as he listened to each man’s evidence. Had that really been him? Had he been so violent? He must have been because that was what Mr Stein and Mr Bowley said he’d done, but he didn’t remember doing it. Was he wrong? Was he remembering everything right? Mr Stein and Mr Bowley couldn’t both be wrong? His dreams relived his attack on Rhys Clarke, almost every night, but were even those dreams wrong?
It was only as Mr Bowley was leaving the courtroom and the next witness was being called that he realised, where was Miss James? She had seen so much of what had happened, she had been there with him in the police station, but she hadn’t given evidence. Where was she?
Then they called Sgt John Bracknell. Liam didn’t recognise the name, but when the man entered the courtroom Liam did recognise him. It was the police officer who had towered over him at school. Why was he here? The answer came quickly though. Sgt Bracknell described the scene at the school. He went into great detail about the state of Rhys Clarke’s body. He also talked about the large number of witnesses who saw the attack. Lastly, he described Liam as “surly” and “angry”. Had he been like that? He remembered being so afraid after it all. Was he angry too? Was his memory even right?
For her first question, Mrs Stewart-Graham asked the policeman, “There were allegations that Rhys Clarke was a school bully. Did you investigate these?”
Before Sgt Bracknell could answer the judge shouted out, “Mrs Stewart-Graham, what did I tell you! Remove the jury now!”
Once the jury had filed out of court, several of them looking annoyed at having to do so, the judge shouted at Mrs Stewart-Graham and she argued back with him, with the occasional interjection from Mr Spencer, though her arguments were lost against the stern wall of the judge’s anger. Eventually she obviously gave in, giving the judge an apology through almost clenched teeth.
The jury were brought back into the court and his trial continued.
When Dr Harvey gave her evidence, he’d been surprised at how different she looked. Her hair had been styled into a bouffant style, rising up from her head and almost framing her face - not the lank bob style he remembered. And she now wore a dark green suit over a white blouse. She strode confidently into the courtroom, looking smart and almost business-like.
Her evidence seemed to be about someone he didn’t know, certainly someone he didn’t recognise. She told the court that he was “angry”, “resentful” and living in a “fantasy land”. She talked about how he was “disconnected” from reality. How did she know this? He hadn’t said a word to her. All her questions he’d answered with a shake or nod of his head, but no more. He’d thought that keeping silent had been the best thing to do, that she would never understand him. Well, she hadn’t understood him, and instead she’d created a completely different personality for him, and it was his fault she had done so. If only he’d answered some of her stupid questions.
Mrs Stewart-Graham, in her cross examination of Dr Harvey, had bluntly asked, “How do you know so much about my client? Didn’t he answer all your questions with silence? Just how do you know so much about him?”
“I’ve been a psychiatrist for fifteen years, I know my patients,” Dr Harvey replied, giving herself a little smile as she did so.
“And you can read their minds too?” Mrs Stewart-Graham shot back.
“Mrs Stewart-Graham, I’ve warned you about this,” the judge barked at her. “The doctor has answered your question. Move on.”
- 11
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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