The Glass Mountain (19 page)

Miss Smythe: I think — I think he was looking for love, though he didn't know it.

Mr James (rolling his eyes): Your Honour, I object to heresay in this trial.

Judge: I'll allow it. Continue, Mr Nunn.

The counsel turns to the matter of the trip.

Miss Smythe: I think it's possible that she had planned it for some time and had seen in the accused a means of accomplishing it.

Mr Nunn: Can you furnish any proof of this?

Miss Smythe: No. But the court would note that in Mrs Ellis's letter to me ( Exhibit D) she exonerates the accused from all responsibility. The letter states, and I quote, “He tried desperately to dissuade me from my purpose …”

The witness would describe the late Mrs Esther Ellis as a fiercely independent, strong-minded woman. And no, she may never have returned to the Home if she'd had her way, but the witness has no evidence to support this.

Counsel now turns to matters regarding Mrs Ellis's last days.

Sheralyn says that Mrs Ellis was alert right to the end. As to the extent of her pain, Sheralyn contends that prior to her death it would have been severe.

Mr James has picked up his pencil, has made a mark on something. He is counting yawns. The juror fourth from the end is way ahead. He gave three in the past testimony. The record is twelve during a cross-examination. At dinner parties, Timothy James is at pains to point out that it was not he who was prosecuting counsel at the time.

Judge: Mr James?

Mr James gets up, narrows his eyes, surveys the witness.

Mr James: Miss Smythe, when Mrs Butcher apprised you of the accused's criminal past, what did you do?

Miss Smythe: Nothing. I knew of it already.

Mr James: And when Mrs Butcher advised you of her intention to issue a complaint against the accused, what action did you take?

Miss Smythe: None.

Mr James: You didn't notify anyone that a complaint was imminent?

Miss Smythe: Well — I did mention it …

Mr James: Miss Smythe, did the accused ever lie to you?

Miss Smythe: No.

Mr James: Did he not tell you his mother was dead?

Miss Smythe is silent.

Judge: Answer the question, Miss Smythe.

Miss Smythe: You don't understand —

Mr James: Yes or no.

Miss Smythe: Yes.

Mr James: Did the accused apprise you of his intention to make a journey with a resident in your care?

Miss Smythe: No.

Mr James: To your knowledge, was the accused aware of his passenger's frailty?

Miss Smythe: Yes.

Mr James: And that she needed ongoing medical attention and medication?

Miss Smythe: Yes.

Mr James: If you had been cognisant of this plan,would you have raised an objection?

Miss Smythe: Of course.

Mr James: Why?

Miss Smythe: Who knows what might have gone wrong.

Mr James: And in the likely contingency of something going wrong, who would have been held responsible?

Miss Smythe: I would have.

Mr James: Miss Smythe, isn't it a fact that once again the accused had deceived you?

Miss Smythe: You've read the letter —

Mr James: Yes or no.

Miss Smythe: Yes.

Mr James (refers to notes, looks up): Miss Smythe, did the accused remain at the gardener's cottage after the incumbent had returned?

Miss Smythe: No.

Mr James: Was he offered accommodation anywhere on the premises?

Miss Smythe: We put up a camp bed in the shed.

Mr James: To your knowledge was the accused in receipt of any income?

Miss Smythe: No.

Mr James: Miss Smythe, did you ever purchase clothing for the accused?

Miss Smythe: Yes.

Mr James: Mr Ingram is an attractive young man, is he not?

Mr Nunn (leaping up): Your Honour —

Mr James: I withdraw the comment. Thank you, Miss Smythe. That is all.

Miss Smythe (raising her voice): No it's not.

Judge (peering over his glasses): I beg your pardon?

Miss Smythe: It's not all. If people don't know about nursing homes, Your Honour, they should.

Judge: Yes, I can understand that.

Miss Smythe: They're holding places. People wait there to die, dumped by families, blood relations who should care but don't —

Judge: Miss Smythe, it's not the nursing home that's on trial.

Miss Smythe: Your Honour, I will not be silent! Go, all of you, to a nursing home and what you'll see is loss of self, of identity as a human being. We do our best. But we struggle against the common perception that old age is catching, that it's ugly and should be locked away. Days come and go and no one visits a soul … No family member, no friend. We are the family and the friend. And it's hard. And then someone comes with youth and energy and he teaches them to laugh at themselves and at the world too and to smell a flower and build a garden and know their worth and what they can still achieve … And they, with the wisdom of age, teach him about books and places and ideas. It's a two-way journey. It works for both. I kept him because it worked and I'd do it again … It's a terrible thing, Your Honour, to be thought worthless, to be dumped like an old shoe … Left to die in the arms of strangers. These men and women once moulded our world. And one day, Your Honour, all of us here may be numbered among them …

From the public gallery there's an explosion of applause.

Tipstaff: Silence in court!

Sheralyn Smythe, red in face and dress, makes her way to the row of pews reserved for family and friends.

‘What a speech,' whispers Dan.

‘What a woman!' murmurs Mr Timothy James QC.

The next day, day three of the trial, the rain and wind are gone. In the night a soupy fog has blanketed the city. But at 9.30 it has started to lift, spiral up, become mist and disperse. Now a pale sun blinks through vapour. It's very cold …

This could be the sabre-rattlers' last day. The final scene before the critics deliver their verdict.

Again they're all here, bundled up like woolly parcels. The weather hasn't stopped anyone. Everyone has a commitment to this ideal, to that.

Trams clang along the roads as shoppers build up at the lights. Will they put him on the stand? That's what everybody's asking — on the streets, in the media. Will the defence risk it? Or is he their trump card?

In a motel room high above the boom and bustle, Sheralyn Smythe sips tea and nibbles toast. ‘We're losing, Dan,' she says. ‘They'll have to call him. They've got no choice.'

‘We've got no choice, Ossie. It's going against us. I've got to put you on the stand.'

In the cell the overhead light flickers.

‘It's not yer fault, Daryl. Yer doing a very excellent job.'

The lawyer's fat pinky eyes roll backward. ‘I can't make up my mind whether you're just loopey,' he moans, ‘or some sort of saint.'

‘Others have the same problem.'

‘Okay, that's enough. Now Ossie, listen. Are you listening?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Just say ‘Yes' or ‘No'. Don't offer anything. Right?'

‘Right.'

‘Yes or no, unless you're asked for more. Then you give as little as possible. Understand?'

‘Understand.'

Daryl Nunn, defence counsel, leans forward and grabs an arm. ‘And keep your cool, no matter what. Do you hear me?'

‘Yeah.'

‘And Ossie, ‘Yes' not ‘Yeah'.'

‘Yeah — Yes.'

The body bulk of Daryl Nunn shudders. But his fat face is smiling. ‘Just do your best, ' he says.

‘Daryl, “A journey of a thousand miles starts with the first step”.'

‘I wish you hadn't said that,' replies Daryl Nunn.

10.25. The crowd surges, pushes, shoves, elbows thick armour out of the way, scoots through columns beneath linked arms. Lots are left on the steps, angry and confused. Inside, people remove coats, nod to each other and wait. By now they know the order of things, how the action falls. The extras will enter first and take their places. The principals will follow.

Sheralyn, again in red, observes the flowing back of Mr Timothy James QC. She tries to picture him at home eating breakfast, admonishing his child, making love. He turns and catches her looking.

The business of the day is dealt with first. That over, the defence calls its next witness, another social worker. Then a general practitioner — its third …

Meredith Rose Wharton stands erect, claps on glasses and scans the set. Meredith Rose Wharton, Registered Nurse, Division 1, spends her day appraising the state of things. She does so now.

Yes, she was on duty during the time of the death in question. She is asked to describe the condition of the patient in the days leading up to the day of her death, the medications prescribed, the forms they took, and who administered them — in this particular case, it was the witness herself and she alone. Of course her fingerprints were on the bottle. No, she did not administer morphine on the day of the late Mrs Ellis's death, but she had the night before.

Yes, she'd encouraged visits by the accused. In any case her patient had repeatedly asked to see him.

Counsel then, step by step, takes the witness through that morning up to the time and after the accused was admitted to the ward.

Mr Nunn: Ms Wharton, in your professional opinion, if Mrs Ellis had not injested that fatal dose of morphine, how long might she have lasted?

Ms Wharton: It's hard to know. A day, two days — maybe even a week.

Mr Nunn: A month?

Ms Wharton: No. Not a month.

Mr Nunn: Thank you, Ms Wharton. Just one last question. In your opinion, could the five hundred-kilometre trek we've heard described have accelerated the process of death?

Ms Wharton: The cancer was well advanced. We'd expected Mrs Ellis to be hospitalised before she was. So, I doubt it.

Mr Nunn: Thank you.

Mr James (flexing his arms and rising slowly): Ms Wharton, a man unknown to you and of questionable demeanour walks into the room of a dying woman and closes the door. Is this normal hospital procedure?

Ms Wharton: He'd been before and she was always better after —

Mr James: Ms Wharton, are killer drugs generally kept at a patient's bedside?

Ms Wharton: I'd left them —

Mr James: On purpose?

Ms Wharton: We were busy, another member of staff had gone off sick —

Mr James: They were left by mistake you mean?

Ms Wharton: Yes.

Mr James: Thank you, Ms Wharton. That will be all.

Two further witnesses are called before the judge calls for an adjournment.

Mr Daryl Nunn stands and nods to the bench gratefully. His nerves have gone to his kidneys and he's dying for a pee.

At 2.15 the hearing recommences.

The next witness will be the last of the day and of the trial.

Mr Nunn, now wheezing, draws in air and calls Austin Eric Ingram.

Ossie glances up, feels the pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He stands, the officers also.

A buzz goes around the courtroom. It gathers volume. There's a shuffling and stirring.

The tipstaff calls for silence in the court.

The officers stand at either side of the witness box. Ossie alone climbs the steps.

In the public gallery they lean forward, poised for his voice, his sound. They know his pallor, the blackness of his hair. Today his tie is a muted silk. It was left with a note. ‘To stun them — S.S.'

The silence thickens.

Don't stare. Don't smile. Answer yes or no. Look contrite. Ossie raises his head and locks eyes with the tipstaff. Rule One already broken.

Mr Nunn: Austin Eric Ingram, you are here to answer the charge of murder; it being that you did administer a lethal dose of morphine to the late Mrs Esther Ellis thereby causing her death. How do you plead?

Ossie: Not guilty.

Mr Nunn: Mr Ingram, did you administer morphine to the late Mrs Esther Ellis?

Ossie: Yes.

Mr Nunn: Did you want Mrs Esther Ellis to die?

Ossie: No.

Mr Nunn: Why, Mr Ingram?

Ossie: She was my friend.

Mr Nunn: Why then, Mr Ingram, did you administer that fatal dose?

Ossie: She asked me to.

Mr Nunn: In what situation was she in when she asked you to?

Ossie: In hospital.

Mr Nunn: I'll rephrase the question. In what condition was she in when she asked you to?

Ossie: She was sick …

Mr Nunn: Describe what you mean.

Ossie: She was grey an' gurgling — like she couldn't breathe.

Mr Nunn: As far as you could tell, was she in pain?

Ossie: Yes.

Mr Nunn: Mr Ingram, why didn't you call for help?

Ossie: She said not to.

Mr Nunn: If the deceased was in the condition that you describe, how could she communicate this to you? Ossie: She sorta gasped it out …

Mr Nunn: Did she communicate anything else?

Ossie: She said, “pills”.

Mr Nunn: Are you certain that was what she said?

Ossie: Yes.

Mr Nunn: Mr Ingram, you are neither doctor nor nurse. How did you know what pills the late Mrs Ellis meant?

Ossie: I said “These” an' she sorta nodded.

Mr Nunn: Sort of nodded?

Ossie: Moved her head.

Mr Nunn: And where were these pills?

Ossie: On the table.

Mr Nunn: Were other bottles on the table?

Ossie: No.

Mr Nunn: Did you know what the bottle contained?

Ossie: Morphine.

Mr Nunn: Mr Ingram, why is morphine generally administered?

Ossie: For pain.

Mr Nunn: You knew this?

Ossie: Yes.

Mr Nunn: Were you also aware of the possible effect of overdosing?

Ossie: Yes.

Mr Nunn: What did you do then?

Ossie: Put them in her mouth. An' some water.

Mr Nunn: You say them?

Ossie: Yes.

Mr Nunn: How many, Mr Ingram?

Ossie: I don't know.

Mr Nunn: You must have some idea. Five, ten, fifteen?