The Coroner (40 page)

    'You
accept no responsibility at all?'

    'No,
I don't.'

    There
were angry murmurs in the public gallery, Simone Wills's voice rising angrily
above the others, and Tara Collins urgently whispering at her to calm down.
Jenny gave her a moment to settle, hoping she'd do it without having to make a
scene. The officials sitting behind her exchanged glances, surprised at Jenny's
failure to intervene. But Simone eventually settled, keeping her cursing under
her breath.

    Jenny
glanced at the Polo mints she had placed on the desk and thought about putting
one in her mouth. No, she'd manage this without. She reached between two files
and pulled out her copy of the tender, not letting Elaine Lewis see what it
was.

    'Mrs
Lewis, just so the jury fully understands the situation, Portshead Farm, along
with many other penal facilities in this country, is owned and run by a private
company for a profit, isn't it?'

    'Yes,
it is.' The first note of defensiveness entered her voice.

    Hartley's
eyes sharpened and he tilted forward in his seat. The two officials in the
public gallery looked up from their notes.

    'If
you don't run your business to the required standard, you risk losing the
franchise. There's a lot of money at stake.'

    'Precisely.
Which is why we can't afford to make mistakes.'

    'Are
you aware that trainees are taking drugs inside Ports- head Farm and on a
regular basis?'

    Elaine
Lewis's eyes darted to Hartley. Jenny took it as a sign she hadn't been prepped
for this.

    'Every
prison and youth custody facility has problems with drugs. Unless we prevent
all physical contact with visitors, it's more or less inevitable.'

    'Let
me give you an example, Mrs Lewis. There was a girl named Katy Taylor who was a
trainee while Danny was there. Unfortunately she died a short while after
leaving custody and as part of the post-mortem tests an analysis was carried
out on her hair. It proved she had been taking cannabis and crack cocaine more
or less daily inside your facility.'

    'If
that's correct, it's very unfortunate.'

    'Most
days in a six-week sentence - that's a lot of drugs.'

    Hartley
rose to his feet, 'Ma'am, far be it from me to dictate the course of your
questioning, but do the drugs Miss Taylor may or may not have consumed have any
relevance to this case?'

    Jenny
said, 'It rather takes the shine off the claim that Portshead Farm is beyond
reproach if trainees are taking drugs every day.'

    
'One
trainee, ma'am.'

    Jenny
addressed the witness. 'We don't know, do we, Mrs Lewis?'

    'We
have a testing regime. The problem is dealt with as it would be in state-run
prisons.'

    Jenny
nodded at Hartley to sit back down. He reluctantly did so.

    Jenny
said, 'Danny was a frequent drug user. Did he take any in Portshead?'

    'I'm
not in a position to say.'

    'So
it's possible?'

    'Of
course. And without being tyrannical, it's not a problem we can completely
stamp out.'

    Jenny
opened the tender to a page she had flagged. 'Do you recognize these words, Mrs
Lewis? "The most advanced system of surveillance and testing will be
employed, based on those which have proved so successful at Portshead Farm to
ensure the facility remains virtually drug-free".'

    The
director's eyes shot to the UKAM executives, who were already leaning forward
over their desks, urgently haranguing Hartley and his solicitor.

    'I
asked if you recognize those words?'

    She
refused to answer, waiting for Hartley to rescue her.

    Jenny
said, 'They come from a tender document written by your employers, who are
seeking to win a contract—'

    Hartley
leapt up. 'Ma'am, my clients inform me that you may be quoting from a highly
confidential, commercially sensitive document which is completely irrelevant to
the very specific facts of this case.'

    'I'll
tell you what I'm quoting from, Mr Hartley—'

    'Ma'am,
please let me address you on an issue of law.'

    Jenny
felt a surge of adrenalin pass through her, for once the good sort. She was
going to face this bastard down. 'No. Please sit down. I want to hear the
witness answer.'

    The
two officials at the back of the court were in animated conversation. The woman
nodded in agreement with her colleague and dashed to the door, pulling out her
phone.

    'Ma'am,
I must protest in the strongest terms. This is completely improper. The remit
of this inquest is to find out when, where and how this death occurred.'

    'That
is precisely what I'm doing, Mr Hartley, and you know full well you have no
right in this court to tell me what questions to ask.'

    'I
hope you understand, ma'am, this could have serious legal consequences for you
personally. Breach of a commercial confidence—'

    Jenny
cut in: 'Is not something I will let stand in the way of an inquest into the
death of a child.' She turned to the witness. 'Failure to answer my questions
is a contempt of court. Do you understand?'

    'Yes.'

    'Mrs
Lewis, do you recognize those words?'

    She
looked to Hartley, who was urgently flicking through a textbook. He nodded.

    'Yes.
I do.'

    'Portshead
Farm can hardly be called drug-free, can it?'

    'That's
a matter of opinion.'

    'Your
company, UKAM Secure Solutions Ltd, is bidding for a multi-million-pound
contract to build a five-hundred place secure training centre in this city,
isn't it? That isn't confidential, only the numbers inside this tender.' She
tapped the cover with her finger.

    The
witness regained her composure. 'Naturally we are. It's a major government
contract. We're leaders in the field.'

    'I'll
put this as delicately as I can . . . The reputation of your company as a safe
custodian of young lives is a vital component to winning this contract, isn't
it?'

    'That
is one element of our bid about which I have no anxiety whatsoever.'

    Jenny
looked at the faces of the jury. The uninterested collection of flotsam which
had taken their places yesterday morning were now united in contempt for this
corporate creature and her polished evasions. Satisfied she had done enough,
Jenny said she had no more questions. Hartley said he had none either.

    Jenny
excused Elaine Lewis from the witness box and asked for Terry Ryan to be
called. As Alison made her way to the door of the court, the male official came
to the end of his row and pushed his card at her. Alison looked at it, then
glanced back at Jenny, who nodded to her to proceed with calling the witness.
The official gave Jenny a stern look, as if she was expected to know who he
was. She ignored it.

    Alison
opened the door of the court and called for Terry Ryan. A skinny
sixteen-year-old boy in low-slung jeans and an Ice-T vest top swaggered in. He
had chest hair and wanted the world to see it. Alison handed the official's
card up to Jenny en route to steering Terry into the witness box. It said:
Simon Moreton, Coroners' Service, Ministry of Justice.
On the back he had
scribbled a note:
Could you please adjourn to discuss tender ASAP? Most
urgent.
Jenny glanced at the official. He was looking at her expectantly.
Jenny placed the card to one side and turned to the witness.

    Only
twenty-four hours after being released from a week on remand, Terry appeared
unharmed by the experience. He had spent most of the last four years in and out
of courts and seemed to thrive on the attention, even more so this time as he
wasn't in the dock. Jenny took him back to his time in Portshead Farm. He said
he was two weeks off the end of a four-month stretch for domestic burglary when
Danny arrived in the next-door cell.

    'When
was the first time you saw him?' Jenny asked.

    'I
think they brought him in on the Saturday - he was in his room when we came
back from five-a-side in the gym. He never came out that night, though.'

    'He
was on the unit from Saturday until the following Friday night. Did you talk to
him in that time?'

    'A
bit. Not much. In the showers and that.'

    'What
was he like?

    'Quiet.
Didn't say a lot. Wouldn't go to class, went to canteen, that was it.'

    'Why
wouldn't he go to class?'

    'Had
a problem with it, I dunno.'

    'Did
you ask him?'

    'Nope.'

    'Did
you speak to him in the canteen?'

    'Once
or twice. Asked him what he was in for and that.'

    'How
did he seem?'

    'Pissed
off. You're all like that first time in. You can't believe it.'

    'Did
he have any injuries, look like he'd been in any fights?'

    'Not
that I noticed.'

    'Did
he seem upset to you at all?'

    Terry
shook his head. 'He was no baby, man. Someone said something he'd give them
this look, you know, like don't mess with me.'

    'Did
he talk to anyone else in the canteen?'

    Terry
shrugged. 'Couple of the girls maybe. He wasn't exactly fitting in, you know.'

    'Which
girls?'

    'I
dunno.'

    'If
you saw him talking to girls, you must remember which ones.'

    'I
wasn't paying him any notice.'

    'Did
he ever talk to you about how he was feeling?'

    Terry
smiled. 'Yeah, right.'

    'Did you
see him in the evenings, when you came back from class?'

    'No.
He just sat in his room . . . Apart from the last night. I think he came out
and watched TV then.'

    'Did
he tell you he'd been in an observation cell?'

    'No.
I didn't know that till it all came out, you know. He never said a thing. Just
kept himself to himself.'

    'Apart
from the girls he spoke to?'

    Terry
shrugged.

    Jenny
glanced over at Simone Wills. She looked heartened by what she was hearing,
proud that her boy came across as tough.

    'Terry,
can you tell me about the Friday night, the 13th, the night Danny died. How was
he?'

    'He
came back to the common room after canteen. We were watching TV.'

    'Did
he talk to anyone?'

    'Not
really. He was just chilling. We were watching one of those talent shows,
having a laugh, rating the girls and that.'

    'Was
Danny laughing?'

    'Yeah.
Maybe.'

    'What
happened then?'

    'Telly
off half-nine, get washed, into bed.'

    'Did
you have any contact with Danny in that half-hour?'

    'No.'

    'So
when lights out came, what then?'

    'Just
lay in my bed. Went to sleep.'

    'Did
you hear anything from Danny's cell?'

    Terry
paused, shook his head. 'I'm not sure . . .'

    'About
what?'

    'There
was one time, I thought I heard someone go in there, like the door closing,
voices maybe.'

    Jenny's
stomach lurched.
Voices.

    'What
time was this?'

    'I
don't know, late ... I don't know if I dreamt it or what.'

    'What
kind of voices did you hear?'