Guilty One (40 page)

‘Yes, on that day I was asleep. The anxiety often builds up and on Monday I was exhausted. But on Sunday I was awake and
I know
the time that he came home.’

‘A witness has testified that he saw Sebastian in the Barnard Park
Adventure Playground fighting with the deceased much later that afternoon. In fact you have
no idea
what time your son came home. You were drugged up and oblivious that day.’

‘That’s not true. It could have been someone else he saw. I know I was awake that day. I was sick with nerves. I couldn’t have slept if I’d tried. He came home at three o’clock, of that I am
certain.’

‘Sick with nerves. I am sure you are, Mrs Croll, sick with nerves. How many milligrams of Valium did you take on 8 August?’

Charlotte coughed. ‘Ten. I only have ten-milligram tablets, sometimes I bite half, but that day I had a full one.’

‘And we are to believe that you were still conscious, let alone aware of the hour, after ten milligrams of Valium?’

‘I have been taking anti-anxiety drugs for some time. Ten milligrams has a sedative effect on me, but no more. You can ask my doctor, smaller amounts don’t even calm me. I know my son was home at 3 p.m.’

Daniel smiled and exhaled. Jones finished his questioning and Charlotte made her way back to her seat. Her elbows were sharp wings. She glanced briefly at Sebastian and Daniel before she sat. Daniel turned to her and mouthed:
You did well.

After a short break, it was time for the defence’s pathologist. The defence had not started well, with Baird’s evidence and the Crown’s assertion that Sebastian had a disorder on the Asperger’s spectrum, but Daniel thought that Charlotte had been a good witness. It had been dangerous to ask her to testify. As an alibi she was important but her volatile emotional state and her lack of attention had worried both Irene and Daniel. Yet Charlotte had excelled.
She had been honest about her drug-taking and about her anxiety, and Daniel felt that her evidence was more credible than Rankine’s later sighting of the fighting boys, after the time when Sebastian claimed he had returned home.

Irene seemed less confident when he met her and Mark afterwards. She was stripped of her gown, pacing in the robing room where the barristers’ lockers were sited.

‘I just don’t think it’s strong enough, Danny,’ she said. ‘That bloody psychologist hurt us.’ The bone-clean cuff of her collar flapped in emphasis as she spoke, hand on hip, two neat lines between her brows. ‘We need something more.’

‘We still have our forensic scientist to call, but I assume you’re not going to call her now,’ said Daniel.

‘No need since we turned Watson. His capitulation is stronger than anything she could say.’

‘There is one person that they’re still waiting to hear from,’ said Daniel.

Irene spun round to face him. Her eyes were intense. ‘You mean put Sebastian on the stand? It wouldn’t be allowed at this stage. The defence is under way.’

‘Could you not make a formal application to the judge?’ Daniel asked.

‘I could but he’s not certain to allow it. Do you think Sebastian’s up to it?’

‘He might be.’

‘And you really think this will help us? I had wondered as much myself. By not letting him testify we could be harming his chances. We need the jury to understand him, especially with the Crown throwing in Asperger’s and his mother’s drug addiction and
the morbid fascination. He’s saying nothing and the jury’s imaginations are running riot … ’

‘I agree – they’re all waiting to hear his side of the story. His silence now is implicating him,’ Daniel said.

Irene exhaled. ‘God, let’s all go and get a drink. I think we need it. We can talk about it then. We’d need reports from the psychologist and then I would have to apply to Baron.’

By eight o’clock they were on their third pint at the Bridge Bar in Gray’s Inn, giggling in the corner behind Judge Baron’s back. The judge was on the other side of the bar with a small sherry.

‘You all right, Danny boy, eh?’ said Irene, leaning forward and sweeping back the hair from Daniel’s face. He allowed it, letting his head fall back gently against the wood panelling. ‘You seem really heavy lately. You’re not like you were at the last trial. I wonder if it’s all getting to you, and I see our little client likes you … a lot.’

‘He
hates
me,’ said Mark, Irene’s junior.

Daniel gave him a sideways smile. Mark was an awkward lad, never seeming to find a shirt to fit.

Daniel pounded his fist gently on the table, making the head on his beer vibrate.

‘I didn’t see all that Asperger’s stuff coming. He’d ruled it out – he’d specifically ruled it out.’

‘None of us saw it coming, Danny, let it go … Hopefully we did a good recovery. I think the way to deal with it is just to acknowledge it from now on. I think I might even mention it in closing, but we have to reiterate the point we have already made, that … even if he does have the non-diagnosed Asperger’s – whatever he called it – Sebastian is not a
murderer.’

Daniel
and Mark nodded in agreement.

‘The bigger question,’ Irene said, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, ‘is whether we take your suggestion and call him.’

‘I know he can do it,’ said Daniel. ‘I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise. He’s not like a lot of little boys. He could handle it.’

‘What’s your opinion, Mark?’ Irene asked.

Daniel could tell from her tone and the way she looked at Mark that she was not really asking him for his opinion, but testing him, teaching him.

‘I think it’s dangerous. There’s no real precedent for it. Venables and Thompson didn’t testify at the Bulger trial because they were said to be suffering from post-traumatic stress. Mary Bell testified, but that was in the fifties and doesn’t constitute a true parallel … ’

‘I think Danny’s right that the jury need to hear from Seb, and I also think he’ll surprise us with his ability to perform. What is not certain is whether the psychologist will agree the boy’s up to it, and ultimately if Baron will accept the application.’

‘I think you should go for it,’ said Daniel.

‘Let me sleep on it. What I find disarming,’ Irene continued, ‘but … nevertheless helpful for his defence … is that he is quite a charming child – Asperger’s or not. He’s weird, he’s unsettling, but he’s charming nevertheless. And he’s very mature, very good in adult company.’ She let her hand fall on to Daniel’s knee. ‘I think you might be right. We
can
put him on the stand.’

Daniel wished that Mark was no longer there. He leaned back, resisting the urge to take her hand.

‘He doesn’t like
my
adult company,’ said Mark. Daniel smiled again; Mark
seemed genuinely offended to have been rejected by the child.

‘You’re being paranoid,’ said Irene. ‘Why does he like you so much, Danny?’

Daniel shrugged. ‘Just generally likeable, I suppose.’

‘Do
you
like
him?’
asked Mark.

‘That’s funny, he asked me that same thing the other day.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said I did like him … I’m not sure
like
is the right word, though. Some part of me … understands him, or I think I do. Whether he murdered Ben Stokes or not, we all know he’s a very disturbed little boy. He needs looking after.’

Mark was looking at Daniel in a strange way, as if he had said something he disagreed with but was afraid to challenge.

‘It does make you wonder,’ said Irene. ‘When I think of the things I got up to as a child … God, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’

‘Like what?’ said Danny, one eyebrow raised.

She smiled at him and let her head fall to one side. ‘I set fire to my cousin’s dress because she said I looked like that little girl from
Little House on the Prairie.’

‘Set fire to her?’ Daniel leaned forward.

‘Yes, we had a big open fire in the kitchen and I was furious with her. I got a little piece of kindling and set the frill of her dress alight. It could’ve been a terrible accident. I could’ve found myself in Sebastian’s position.’

‘What happened?’ said Mark and Daniel together.

‘Miraculous. She just patted the flames and they died. Just patted them away. Of course she told on me … and her dress was ruined.’

‘I
knew you’d’ve been a little hell-raiser.’

‘I’m a fire-starter,’ mimed Irene, shooing Mark off to get more drinks.

‘What were you like when you were little?’ said Irene coyly. ‘Bet you were
adorable.’

‘I was a tearaway,’ said Daniel, meeting her gaze.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can see that too.’

Daniel met with the Crolls at Parklands House. The psychologist had stated that Sebastian would be able to testify under certain conditions. Irene was preparing her application to Judge Philip Baron.

The rain was hard and the day was black outside. King Kong was heavy in the meeting room, Sebastian waiting on his own upstairs. The plastic secured chairs strained under his weight.

‘Are you saying that you’ve fucked this up? That is what you’re saying, isn’t it? Why should he give evidence? Is he not in danger of incriminating himself?’

‘There is an argument that by
not
testifying he’s incriminating himself, and he held up really well in the police interviews. He’s been so bright … ’

‘Don’t patronise me. I know my son is smart, he wouldn’t be my son if he wasn’t. Of course he’ll be better than your average stupid little kid in the dock. What I want is the strategy. Why is this the best move?’

‘Because we think the jury need to hear from him. The evidence about Asperger’s, the later sighting and the issue over the alibi all seem to ask for Sebastian’s comment. We think his evidence could be very important. Essentially it’s important at this stage for the jury to hear that he didn’t do it. We have already shown
that there is reasonable doubt but we feel that the jury need to hear it from him.’

Kenneth’s right eye twitched as he listened to Daniel.

‘If Sebastian handles it well, it could make all the difference.’

‘If? … I don’t deal in
ifs.
I’m surprised that you do.’

Daniel took a deep breath.

‘We could ask Sebastian what he thinks,’ said Charlotte.

‘For God’s sake – he’s a child – what would he know?’ Kenneth turned to Charlotte in contempt. A fine spray of his spit landed on the table.

‘A lot will depend on how well he comes across,’ said Daniel, loosening his tie. The Parklands House interview room felt claustrophobic. Rain was thrust against the small ceiling windows in gusts, so that it fell like handfuls of grit. Daniel was not sure why, but it reminded him of Minnie’s funeral. ‘If he performs well, we might still be able to win. If he performs badly, if Jones manages to rattle him or confuse him, then it could hurt us again.’ Daniel exhaled, and looked Kenneth and then Charlotte in the eye. ‘It’s a risk, but I think it’s worth taking to let the jury hear his point of view.’

Charlotte glanced at her husband then asked, ‘And what if he doesn’t testify?’ She looked at the table instead of meeting Daniel’s gaze. ‘Will he be found guilty for sure?’

‘Not at all.’

‘But you think he should give evidence?’

‘Yes, I think Sebastian should go into the witness box,’ said Daniel.

Kenneth pouted, exaggerating his already full lips. Daniel watched his eyes, which were at once intelligent and hard.

‘I think we all know he’s up to this,’ said Kenneth slowly. ‘And I
think this madness has to come to an end. We want him home. If he wants to do it, and you think it might help, we’ll let him.’

Sebastian was called. He entered the room slowly, a small smile on his white face and his green eyes twinkling with excitement. He sat at the top of the table, with his parents to his left and Daniel to his right. Charlotte put a palm to his cheek and Sebastian leaned into it.

King Kong snapped his fingers. ‘Sit up please, we have something quite serious to discuss.’

Sebastian did as he was told, not looking at his father. Once again, Daniel thought that he looked
so
young, his feet still not touching the floor when he sat in the chair; his large head balanced on a thin neck and two dimples on his right cheek when he smiled.

‘What do you think about testifying, Sebastian?’ said his father. ‘You going into the witness box to give evidence?’

‘Well, you wouldn’t actually have to do that,’ corrected Daniel. ‘You would most likely be in a room near court. They’d set up a video link. You would have a social worker with you.’

‘Couldn’t you sit with me?’ said Sebastian, addressing Daniel. ‘That would be best.’

‘What is this ridiculous infatuation?’ boomed Croll suddenly. ‘There are more important things at stake. Testifying might be a way to keep you out of jail. Do you understand?’

Sebastian was cowed suddenly, his green eyes darkening and his rosebud mouth tightening. Daniel glanced at him in time to see the glint of the boy’s lower teeth.

‘I would probably have to stay in court,’ said Daniel. ‘But I could come and see you at the breaks. We can work all this out later.
We want people to hear your story. We’ll give you lots of practice before … but it’s up to you.’

‘I want to testify,’ said Sebastian, looking at Daniel. ‘I want to tell the jury what
actually happened.’

Kenneth Croll took a deep intake of breath and then sighed. ‘Well, that’s that decided then.’ He nodded at Daniel, as if they had just cut a deal.

28

When
Daniel got off the bus, the sun was shining. The air was still, and the flowering nettles were alert as he walked towards Minnie’s farm.

As he marched through the town, people he vaguely recognised stepped out of his way. He passed the butchers, which he knew sold a stock of Flynn chickens and eggs, past the sweetshop where mean old Mrs Wilkes had worked. It was boarded up now – victim of the times. He walked past the police station, which was always closed. He saw the telephone in its doorway which Daniel knew would connect to Carlisle Police.