Part Five
On the Saturday morning, Jo Mills QC was sat in her garden, going through the mountain of evidence for the upcoming trial. She had prosecuted many murderers in her time, but she didn't think she'd encountered anyone with quite so much audacity as Tracy Pilkinton, or Snowball Merriman, as everyone seemed to think of her. Jo knew that the next two weeks were going to be extremely hard work. But there was one good thing on the horizon, John would be presiding over this trial. She didn't know how he'd managed to swing this trial, because it was full of possible bombshells and outed cover ups by the prison service. Although Jo knew that at least three of her witnesses would be senior members of prison staff, she was also aware that they would be at all costs trying to eliminate any blame on their part for Merriman having been able to smuggle in explosives and construct a bomb. Looking down her list of witnesses, Jo reflected that it would be an interesting trial if nothing else. Three of her witnesses were prison staff, two were ex-cons and one a current inmate. They alone would provide the central attraction of the circus ring of the Old Bailey. The defendants would end up being a mere side show compared to this lot. She also thought it more than likely that John would be asking as many questions of the witnesses as possible. He wasn't the kind of man to pass up an opportunity of questioning the wife of the late Charlie Atkins, for example, and seeing that one of the defendants was the gangster's moll's son, Jo grinned. There would be no end of fireworks with this trial. Jo had met and talked to all of her witnesses, no silk would ever think of doing otherwise, and she knew that perhaps the most credible and honest of her witnesses was Yvonne Atkins herself. Despite having been the wife and probably the backbone of the east London mob, she was open, honest and certainly wasn't backward in speaking her mind. Jo grinned as she thought of a possible verbal tussle between John Deed and Yvonne Atkins. That one would almost be worth videoing, even if that would have been breaking court rules. When the person stood watching her said,
"What are you smiling about?" She looked up slightly startled. Mr. Justice Deed, or John to his nearest and dearest was standing by the side gate to her garden watching her. Opening the gate he walked over to her and sat down next to her on the garden bench. Leaning over to kiss his cheek, she said,
"Where did you spring from?"
"I was at a loose end, so thought I'd see how busy you are." Jo gestured at the pile of papers on the garden table.
"You're at a loose end? I don't know how with this trial coming up on Monday. You should have more reading than I do."
"I was rather hoping you'd make me a coffee," John said with a smile. Placing her legal dictionary on top of the paper to stop the breeze dispersing her entire case over the garden, Jo moved towards the kitchen and her favourite choice of caffeine. As she stood at the sink filling the kettle, John asked,
"So, what were you grinning about?"
"Oh, just the thought of you tangling with one of my witnesses, Yvonne Atkins." John laughed.
"Yes, I've a feeling that might be an experience for all concerned."
"Well, as long as you don't manage to do Cantwell's job for him and pull her evidence to shreds, she's the best witness I've got."
"The most reliable witness you have is the wife of a gangster?"
"Was the wife of a gangster, he's dead now. You might remember how he was blown to bits on the steps of the Bailey about two years ago."
"Oh yes," Said John, clearly remembering something. "And they never found the person who did it, did they?"
"No, and I'd appreciate it if that little can of worms wasn't opened this week."
"So, you think she had something to do with it after all?"
"I don't know," Said Jo truthfully. "I've spoken to her a couple of times, we've gone over her evidence for this trial and she seems honest enough, for someone who hired a hit man, that is. Besides, she was still in prison when that happened. If I was being asked to put my money on anyone for the murder of Charlie Atkins, I'd be betting on the daughter, Lauren. But that case was closed long ago, and far be it from me to try and re-open it."
"And especially not before you've convicted the son," He said quietly.
"Don't even think about it, John," Jo said, a frown marring the unobtrusive beauty of her face.
"Okay," He said, "Point taken. this trial's going to be interesting if nothing else."
"Have you come here to gen up on my witnesses as usual?" She said, clearly having seen this routine from him before.
"Who better to give me an insight?" He asked.
"As long as I have a cast iron promise from you that you won't jeopardise them in court."
"Come on, Jo, you know me better than that. I no longer make promises that I can't swear to keep."
"Do you know something?" She said, slightly rising to the bate. "I'm beginning to think the LCD's right."
"God forbid," He said. "If Sir Ian Rochester and his sidekick Lawrence James are ever right about anything, it's a sad day for the rest of us."
"I just mean their little argument about barristers appearing in front of people they have a history with, like you and me for instance. You do this every time there's an interesting trial with me acting for the prosecution, though you've even done it with the defence on a couple of occasions."
"done what?" He said, still trying to goad her. Jo cast a long suffering glance at the fresh Brazilian coffee she was taking out of the freezer.
"This! Asking me to give you the lowdown on my witnesses. The really sad thing is that I always capitulate to your request." John grinned.
"what, a little like the old days, just a different request?" Jo lifted the packet of coffee, as if to throw it at him, then as if realising the value of Brazilian coffee, simply laughed.
"I'm too good to you," She said, filling the caffetiere.
When they were again sat outside, Jo began going through her line up.
"First there's Karen Betts, the wing governor from Larkhall. She's complicated because she started an affair with Ritchie Atkins, just before Merriman came to Larkhall. He managed to use his affiliation with her to bring suspicion on her and to plant the gun in her handbag."
"Really nice guy, our Mr. Ritchie Atkins," Mused John. Jo continued.
"Then there's Yvonne Atkins, and you know enough about her to be going on with. Following her there's a prison officer James Fenner, and I don't like him one little bit. Apart from Lawrence James, he's the slimiest, creepiest man I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Then there's the prison governor, Neil Grayling, and he's definitely got something to hide. I'm not sure what yet, but he could probably challenge Ritchie Atkins for a stake in the oily snake of the century awards. After him, there's a current inmate of Larkhall, Alison McKenzy, an ex-inmate, Barbara Hunt, and one of the visitors who was there for the open day when the explosion took place."
"Sounds like you've got it all wrapped up to me," Said John, clearly impressed with her array of witnesses.
"I'll keep the jury entertained, that's for sure," replied Jo cynically. "but this isn't wrapped up by any means, John. I haven't even started and I know that this ride is going to be one of the rockiest yet. You've got to have guts to do all the things those two have done, and Merriman's guts certainly haven't run out up to now. She's come this far, and she isn't going to give up anytime in the near future."
On the Saturday morning, Jo Mills QC was sat in her garden, going through the mountain of evidence for the upcoming trial. She had prosecuted many murderers in her time, but she didn't think she'd encountered anyone with quite so much audacity as Tracy Pilkinton, or Snowball Merriman, as everyone seemed to think of her. Jo knew that the next two weeks were going to be extremely hard work. But there was one good thing on the horizon, John would be presiding over this trial. She didn't know how he'd managed to swing this trial, because it was full of possible bombshells and outed cover ups by the prison service. Although Jo knew that at least three of her witnesses would be senior members of prison staff, she was also aware that they would be at all costs trying to eliminate any blame on their part for Merriman having been able to smuggle in explosives and construct a bomb. Looking down her list of witnesses, Jo reflected that it would be an interesting trial if nothing else. Three of her witnesses were prison staff, two were ex-cons and one a current inmate. They alone would provide the central attraction of the circus ring of the Old Bailey. The defendants would end up being a mere side show compared to this lot. She also thought it more than likely that John would be asking as many questions of the witnesses as possible. He wasn't the kind of man to pass up an opportunity of questioning the wife of the late Charlie Atkins, for example, and seeing that one of the defendants was the gangster's moll's son, Jo grinned. There would be no end of fireworks with this trial. Jo had met and talked to all of her witnesses, no silk would ever think of doing otherwise, and she knew that perhaps the most credible and honest of her witnesses was Yvonne Atkins herself. Despite having been the wife and probably the backbone of the east London mob, she was open, honest and certainly wasn't backward in speaking her mind. Jo grinned as she thought of a possible verbal tussle between John Deed and Yvonne Atkins. That one would almost be worth videoing, even if that would have been breaking court rules. When the person stood watching her said,
"What are you smiling about?" She looked up slightly startled. Mr. Justice Deed, or John to his nearest and dearest was standing by the side gate to her garden watching her. Opening the gate he walked over to her and sat down next to her on the garden bench. Leaning over to kiss his cheek, she said,
"Where did you spring from?"
"I was at a loose end, so thought I'd see how busy you are." Jo gestured at the pile of papers on the garden table.
"You're at a loose end? I don't know how with this trial coming up on Monday. You should have more reading than I do."
"I was rather hoping you'd make me a coffee," John said with a smile. Placing her legal dictionary on top of the paper to stop the breeze dispersing her entire case over the garden, Jo moved towards the kitchen and her favourite choice of caffeine. As she stood at the sink filling the kettle, John asked,
"So, what were you grinning about?"
"Oh, just the thought of you tangling with one of my witnesses, Yvonne Atkins." John laughed.
"Yes, I've a feeling that might be an experience for all concerned."
"Well, as long as you don't manage to do Cantwell's job for him and pull her evidence to shreds, she's the best witness I've got."
"The most reliable witness you have is the wife of a gangster?"
"Was the wife of a gangster, he's dead now. You might remember how he was blown to bits on the steps of the Bailey about two years ago."
"Oh yes," Said John, clearly remembering something. "And they never found the person who did it, did they?"
"No, and I'd appreciate it if that little can of worms wasn't opened this week."
"So, you think she had something to do with it after all?"
"I don't know," Said Jo truthfully. "I've spoken to her a couple of times, we've gone over her evidence for this trial and she seems honest enough, for someone who hired a hit man, that is. Besides, she was still in prison when that happened. If I was being asked to put my money on anyone for the murder of Charlie Atkins, I'd be betting on the daughter, Lauren. But that case was closed long ago, and far be it from me to try and re-open it."
"And especially not before you've convicted the son," He said quietly.
"Don't even think about it, John," Jo said, a frown marring the unobtrusive beauty of her face.
"Okay," He said, "Point taken. this trial's going to be interesting if nothing else."
"Have you come here to gen up on my witnesses as usual?" She said, clearly having seen this routine from him before.
"Who better to give me an insight?" He asked.
"As long as I have a cast iron promise from you that you won't jeopardise them in court."
"Come on, Jo, you know me better than that. I no longer make promises that I can't swear to keep."
"Do you know something?" She said, slightly rising to the bate. "I'm beginning to think the LCD's right."
"God forbid," He said. "If Sir Ian Rochester and his sidekick Lawrence James are ever right about anything, it's a sad day for the rest of us."
"I just mean their little argument about barristers appearing in front of people they have a history with, like you and me for instance. You do this every time there's an interesting trial with me acting for the prosecution, though you've even done it with the defence on a couple of occasions."
"done what?" He said, still trying to goad her. Jo cast a long suffering glance at the fresh Brazilian coffee she was taking out of the freezer.
"This! Asking me to give you the lowdown on my witnesses. The really sad thing is that I always capitulate to your request." John grinned.
"what, a little like the old days, just a different request?" Jo lifted the packet of coffee, as if to throw it at him, then as if realising the value of Brazilian coffee, simply laughed.
"I'm too good to you," She said, filling the caffetiere.
When they were again sat outside, Jo began going through her line up.
"First there's Karen Betts, the wing governor from Larkhall. She's complicated because she started an affair with Ritchie Atkins, just before Merriman came to Larkhall. He managed to use his affiliation with her to bring suspicion on her and to plant the gun in her handbag."
"Really nice guy, our Mr. Ritchie Atkins," Mused John. Jo continued.
"Then there's Yvonne Atkins, and you know enough about her to be going on with. Following her there's a prison officer James Fenner, and I don't like him one little bit. Apart from Lawrence James, he's the slimiest, creepiest man I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Then there's the prison governor, Neil Grayling, and he's definitely got something to hide. I'm not sure what yet, but he could probably challenge Ritchie Atkins for a stake in the oily snake of the century awards. After him, there's a current inmate of Larkhall, Alison McKenzy, an ex-inmate, Barbara Hunt, and one of the visitors who was there for the open day when the explosion took place."
"Sounds like you've got it all wrapped up to me," Said John, clearly impressed with her array of witnesses.
"I'll keep the jury entertained, that's for sure," replied Jo cynically. "but this isn't wrapped up by any means, John. I haven't even started and I know that this ride is going to be one of the rockiest yet. You've got to have guts to do all the things those two have done, and Merriman's guts certainly haven't run out up to now. She's come this far, and she isn't going to give up anytime in the near future."