Part Seventeen
After listening to Thomas being questioned, Karen reached a conclusion, one that she had been mulling over since lunchtime. George had left soon after court was adjourned, saying that she had some work to catch up on after having been in court for two days. But Karen waited until she saw Jo emerge from court. She knew that what she was about to ask of Jo would almost certainly be refused, but Karen knew it was something she just had to ask. If she was going to finally lay her memories of Fenner to rest, this process had to begin with her knowing as much about his death as possible. "Jo, have you got a minute?" Karen asked, walking up to her. "Yes, of course," Jo replied, "What can I do for you?" "I need to ask a favour," Karen said slowly. "Something which I'm fairly sure you're going to say no to." They moved to sit down in one of the alcoves where solicitors usually talked to their clients. "Ask away," Jo invited. "Please can I see Fenner's forensic report?" "Karen, you know I can't let you do that," Jo replied slowly but firmly. "And you know that I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't something I thought I needed to do." "There are two considerations here," Jo said, "One being that I would be breaking the rules of client confidentiality, which I am not about to do unless I think it is absolutely necessary, and the second is that I don't know how good an idea it would be for you to read something like that." "I feel like it's the only way I can finally begin to get him out of my life." Jo looked thoughtful. They were then approached by Coope. "Mrs. Mills, the Judge would like to see you in chambers." "I wondered when I'd be summoned for my slap on the wrist," Jo said, getting to her feet. "If you wait here," She said to Karen, "I'll try to have an answer for you by the time I come down."
When Coope had shown Jo into John's chambers, she departed after having been tactfully asked by John to leave them to it. "Sit down," John said when Coope had left, but Jo remained standing. "John, you summoned me here to give me a verbal slap on the wrist. So please just get on with it." "Okay," He said slowly, seeing that Jo was going to be as belligerent as George still often was. "Is there a satisfactory reason for the way you behaved in court this morning?" "I was having a bad day and you made it worse. Will that do?" "No, because treating both the opposition's witnesses and the court with total disdain just isn't like you, and I will not be made to feel superfluous, or backed in to a corner in my own court." "That's what this is really about, isn't it," She said with utter certainty. "You don't like the fact that you were wrong to allow the Professor's ridiculous and utterly unfounded assertion to stand yesterday, and even more so because I proved you wrong. You don't like it when someone else has the upper hand for a while, do you." John simply stared at her. Where had she gone, where was the Jo Mills he knew and loved? "Might I remind you that it is not anyone's place but mine to have the upper hand in my court," He said quietly, though with the threat of anger just below the surface. "Don't make me put you in a cell, Jo, because any more antics like this morning, and I will." "Fine," She said icily. "Warning received and understood." "Good," He said, walking slowly towards her. "Now that the official meeting's over, you can tell me what on earth's got in to you today." He stood in front of her but she made no move to touch him. "John, I'm really not in the mood for this," She said wearily. "Well then," He said, the words attempting to smooth her ruffled feathers. "Can I see you tonight? You never know, it might just make you relax." "No, John, you can't," She said, backing a little away from him. "Why not?" "Because I am finally beginning to see just why barristers are not supposed to sleep with the Judges they are before. You always do this, John; you always pull rank on me if I'm ever showing signs of making things even slightly difficult for you. But it's never an equal fight. You always have to have the upper hand in this relationship, in court and out of it. Ever since the day I first slept with you, you've used your seniority, whether that be pupil-master or judge, to keep me exactly where you want me. Even through all those years when I refused to get back in to your bed, you kept insinuating yourself in to my professional life because you knew I still loved you. If either one of us were in a different profession, you wouldn't be able to do this to me, at least not quite as much." "And do I do this with George?" He asked when he could finally get a word in. "Before you started sleeping with her again, yes you did. But then I doubt that even you could ever have the sexual upper hand with George, and before you say a word, that wasn't an insult to George but a realistic view of myself. I would just like, for once in my life, to feel your equal." "Jo," He tried to interrupt but she hadn't finished yet. "Do you know what's really quite odd about this situation? I never thought I'd be saying this, but even George treats me like an equal these days, so why can't you?" "Jo," He finally succeeded in stopping her in her rant. "If anyone has the upper hand in this relationship, it's you and George. It was you who first had the idea of tying me down to only the two of you. That's you, Jo, not anyone else." "Then perhaps you should ask yourself why," She said furiously, after which she turned, flung open the door and slammed it behind her.
When Jo descended the stairs in to the foyer, Karen looked up to see that she had tears running freely down her cheeks. Getting up, she went over to her. "Are you all right?" "He makes me so angry!" Jo said in a mixture of tears and fury. "Do you know what," She added decisively. "I can't possibly make a worse mess of things than I already have today, so if seeing Fenner's forensic report is something you feel you need to do, then that's fine by me." "Jo," Karen said cautiously. "Don't just say yes to this because you know it would make him cross." "Every decision in my life doesn't have to revolve around John," Jo said, searching in her handbag for a tissue. "I know," Replied Karen gently. "But I don't want you to regret it." "If breaking client confidentiality in the name of closure is the worst thing I ever do, then I think I can live with it. But you'll have to come back with me to my office if you really want to see it. Firstly, because I don't want the fingerprints of any unauthorized person anywhere near the documentation for this case because I've had enough run ins with the professional conduct committee to last me a life time, and secondly, because I am not breaking my professional code of practice in the immediate vicinity of even one court officer." She had found a tissue by this time and wiped her eyes. "Thank you," Karen said, wondering if she would be thinking that after going through with her wish.
As she followed Jo's tail-lights through the rain and the rush hour traffic, Karen couldn't help but feel a sense of fear-laden anticipation. Finding out the exact details of Fenner's death, and not just those necessary for the court case, was perhaps the most personal way she could ever have invaded his space. But might this just be why she was doing it? To have the last laugh, the last word? Finally, after too many tortured dreams and endless phases of self-doubt and self-recrimination, she would have won, and he would have lost. When she drew up beside Jo's car, she could see that Jo had taken the opportunity whilst sitting in too many traffic jams to repair the ravages to her face. Following Jo up the carpeted stairs to her office, Karen was forced to remember the first time she had come here, and knew that the sense of nervousness wasn't very different from that occasion. Jo's office was warm, the shelves crammed with books and box files, the cluttered desk and the case files piled in one of the visitors' chairs making the room look and feel lived in. Jo immediately moved to her desk and switched on the computer, waiting for the screen to light up and eventually typing in her password. Karen watched as she moved the mouse familiarly through her electronic workspace, opening folders, scrolling down file names and finally clicking on a Word document, which began to appear in tiny pixels on the screen. "Would you like a cup of tea?" She said to Karen, gesturing for her to take the swivel chair in front of the desk. "Yes please," Karen replied as she sat down, knowing that this was Jo's way of saying, what I don't see you read can't possibly hurt me. When Jo quietly left the room and closed the door, Karen began to read.
"Name: James Fenner. Date of Discovery: 12/10/03. Approximate date of death: 05/10/03. Primary cause of Death: inhalation of soil in to the lungs resulting in suffocation. Manner of Death: homicide. Attending forensic Pathologist: Professor Sam Ryan.
Attached to this report are photographs of every stage of the procedure, toxicology reports containing James Fenner's blood alcohol results plus any other substances found in his system, x-ray films, histology slides and a report on the bullet retrieved from his body.
When Mr. Fenner's body was first presented to me, his initial x-ray showed a bullet to be lodged in his spine, just above the navel. I did not think that this injury would have been immediately life threatening, unless it had struck the iliac artery, and I was proved right on closer examination. Once Mr. Fenner had been unclothed, I could determine that this gunshot wound was not a contact injury, meaning that the shot was fired from some distance away. This was ascertained by the lack of gunshot residue on the surrounding skin, the lack of a muzzle mark on the skin, and the fact that the bullet had slowed down enough by the time it reached the body to lodge itself in the spine, rather than passing straight through. I would estimate that this bullet was not intended to cause maximum damage but only to incapacitate the victim. I make this assertion as if maximum injury were the intended outcome, either Mr. Fenner would have been shot in an alternative place, or a bullet such as the Smith and Wesson black tallon would have been used. The gunshot injury was proved not to be the cause of death on examination of the mouth and internal organs. There were particles of soil, matched to that found in the area where James Fenner's body was discovered, clinging to the insides of his mouth and throat. This initially indicated that he might have been suffocated.
In order to conduct the internal examination, I performed a sterno-pubic incision on James Fenner. This looks exactly like a letter Y. It begins at each clavicle or collarbone, the two branches of the Y meeting at the sternum or breastbone, then descending to just above the genitals, making a slight detour around the naval, or in Mr. Fenner's case, around his abdominal gunshot wound.
On opening the chest cavity, I first excised the heart. This was done by transection of the aorta, the vena cava, the pulmonary artery and pulmonary vein. James Fenner had mild coronary artery disease, which was possibly the result of a lifestyle consisting mainly of smoking, drinking and a protracted period of unhealthy living. The heart did show signs of severe strain, almost certainly caused at or before the time of death due to blood loss and a lack of oxygenated blood.
Before proceeding to an in-depth examination of the lungs, I was able to verify that the laryngeal nerve was in tact, meaning that James Fenner would certainly have been able to shout for help and to plead with his killer any time up until he began to feel the effects of a lack of oxygen. The fact that he didn't succeed in attracting any attention to his predicament could suggest one of two things: either there was nobody in the vicinity who would have heard his cry for help, or that he knew his killer and assumed that he or she wouldn't go through with their suggested course of action.
I then progressed to James Fenner's lungs, excising them as far up the trachea as possible to attempt to keep it in tact. There were many soil particles clinging to the interior of the trachea, the bronchioles and the superior alveoli or air sacs. This confirmed my diagnosis that James Fenner had died by suffocation, as a result of inhaling earth particles. For such a quantity of soil to be present in Mr. Fenner's lungs, it would have been necessary for him to have been submerged in a growing mound of earth. Once his brain began reacting to a severe lack of oxygen, he would have quickly become unconscious, but this would not have prevented his lungs from trying to breathe involuntarily. This can be illustrated by histological examination of the alveolar tissue. When the lungs are continuously trying to maintain a satisfactory oxygen level in a rapidly decreasing air supply, they will therefore breathe faster and faster to cope with the lack of oxygenated air. This causes the collapse of the alveolar framework, (both of ducts and air sacs), resulting in the overlap of the alveolar and eventually the pulmonary septa. This in turn resulted in the decrease of the space needed for the exchange between oxygenated and de-oxygenated air. This rapid change in pulmonary architecture would have meant that only de-oxygenated blood was reaching the heart through the pulmonary vein. Whether the severe pulmonary obstruction or the lack of oxygenated blood to reach the heart was the first thing to kill him, we can never be certain. Either way, once James Fenner was submerged in earth, almost certainly poured on to his face from above, he would have died within minutes.
I then moved my examination to Mr. Fenner's gunshot wound. In doing so, I discovered a substantial amount of scar tissue from a previous injury, possibly from a stabbing or a major abdominal operation. The bullet had penetrated Mr. Fenner's body at the lower end of his abdominal scar, the extensive internal scar tissue almost certainly slowing the bullet down. The bullet was lodged in the spine at L5, in the superior bone of the lumbar sacral junction. Mr. Fenner would not have been able to feel any sensation below this point, which would have meant that he was unable to stand or walk, or move his lower body in any way. If, as I suspect, he was standing where he was eventually buried when he was shot, he would have been totally unable to drag himself out of the firing line. If Mr. Fenner had not been buried alive, then he would have eventually died from blood loss, though this could have taken anything up to a few hours, due to the fact that his wound did not hit any major veins or arteries. Except with the use of his arms, Mr. Fenner would have had no chance whatsoever of defending himself against his killer.
Judging by the fact that James Fenner's fingerprints were present on the spade that was recovered, I would estimate that he was forced at gunpoint to dig his own grave, then to stand in the grave whilst he was shot. He then had to watch as earth was gradually heaped over his face. It must be made clear at this point that whoever killed James Fenner buried him extremely skillfully, and that he would not have been found for a considerable amount of time had it not been for the ingenuity of a very inquisitive Labrador. In considering this crime, going by the location, method and initial success in concealing Mr. Fenner's body, it would not be beyond the call of duty for me to suggest that Mr. Fenner did know the identity of his killer. Something, some reason made him do exactly what he was told on that journey to Epping Forest.
Note on the firearm
Mr. James Fenner was shot with a nine millimetre Remington cartridge, discharged from a Sig Sauer nine millimetre pistol. In the solving of homicide cases, this gun and this type of bullet are always useful, in that the cartridge case is always discharged along with the bullet, and in Mr. Fenner's case, his killer forgot to remove it from the scene. The firing pin of this type of pistol always leaves a very small scratch on the side of the cartridge case which, when compared with a suspect gun, can be matched with the same unique preciseness as a fingerprint. After a wide and detailed search, the gun was found together with the spade that was used to bury James Fenner. The firing pin of the Sig Sauer pistol was matched with the groove on the side of the cartridge case, stating without doubt that it was this gun that was used. Interestingly, whilst the spade still contained particles of soil, plus the fingerprints of Mr. Fenner and his killer, the gun had been expertly cleaned. The internal workings had been freshly lubricated with gun oil, and the external surfaces scrubbed with Hops9 solvent. This had clearly been done by someone who knows about guns and who is used to maintaining their own weapons on a regular basis. The gun also contained some identifying details of its own. Engraved just above the trigger, were the letters CJA. It must also be noted that the five remaining bullets had been removed from the gun before it was disposed of. To all intents and purposes, this gun, were it to be found in the hands of a licensed owner, would not appear to have been recently used. This was without doubt an attempt to mislead police officers and to conceal the perpetration of James Fenner's murder..."
Karen continued reading, but all the essentials had been spelt out to her in the stark, all too vivid words of someone who had simply been doing their job. She was ashamed to feel tears on her face, to see in her reflection from the monitor that her eyes held only pain, only grief for the Fenner who had once said he loved her. It was funny, but that had been the one thing he'd ever said to her that inwardly she'd never doubted. He had believed that he hadn't raped her, that he could never do something like that to her. Even in his twisted, screwed up fashion he had loved her. But if she was grieving for the Fenner she had once loved, then where did that put her when it came to Yvonne, and what Yvonne's daughter had so ruthlessly done to him. She didn't know. All the feelings she had, plus all the feelings she knew she ought to have, were so mixed up in her head that she didn't know where one set of thoughts ended and the next began.
Jo had taken a good deal longer than necessary to make two mugs of tea, knowing that Karen would need some space to do this. Jo still wasn't convinced that it was a good thing, but maybe Karen needed to be allowed to make a decision for herself for once where Fenner was concerned. But as she gently pushed open her office door, she could feel Karen's pain and confusion as if it was almost tangible. Putting the mugs down on the coffee table and softly closing the door, Jo walked over to the desk. Seeing that Karen couldn't possibly still see the screen through her tears, Jo switched the monitor off, removing the practical horrors of Fenner's death and returning it to a friendly, impersonal blank. Putting her arms gently round her, Jo held Karen to her, gently rubbing the slightly trembling shoulders, Karen's head softly nestled against Jo's body. After a while, Karen looked up. "I had to do it," She said, desperately wanting Jo to understand. "I know," Jo said softly, remembering what George had told her of Karen's flashback the day before, and realising that this had been Karen's attempt to take control of her memories of Fenner, to begin to exorcise them before they took over her psyche. "I'm not supposed to feel like this," Karen said, eventually detaching herself from Jo and reaching for the box of tissues on the desk. "I'm supposed to be relieved that he's no longer here, that he can never again do to me or anyone else the kind of thing he got away with for years. I'm supposed to be able to consign all my memories of Fenner to somewhere where they can't come back to haunt me, like the memory of the person I was when I lived with him." Jo simply stood and waited. "I was a complete cow when I loved and lived with Fenner," Karen added bitterly. "So was George before you got to know her," Jo found herself saying. "People change." They moved over to the two chairs under the window, between which was the coffee table that contained their mugs of tea and an ashtray. "Karen, one thing you must not do," Jo said as she lit a cigarette and handed it to Karen, after which she lit one for herself. "Is to blame yourself for anything you are feeling." "It's not quite that simple though, is it." "No, it's not, and I think this is only the beginning. Ever since that first day when I came to see Lauren, and she told me what she'd done to Fenner, I thought something like this might happen. It became blindingly obvious to me that you knew nothing of the real circumstances of his death, and even though I tried to persuade Yvonne to tell you, we reached the trial and you still didn't know. That's why I made sure there was someone in the public gallery who I could trust to deal with any emotional reaction you might have to hearing the details of how your once lover, because that's what he was, had died. Even now it feels odd to be able to say that I trust George, but with something like this, I do. But in the end, it wasn't the details of his death that caused you to relive something you thought you'd forgotten." "Did she tell you what did make me walk out of court?" "Yes. Have you thought about why it was that particular incident that you remembered?" "I didn't think about much else on Monday night, and I think it was because that was the start of Fenner wielding his influence over me. From that time until Virginia O'Kane was killed, I accepted every word he said as being gospel. I wouldn't listen to anyone who tried to vilify him. I remember the day after he assaulted Helen, she was trying to find out whether or not I was living with him. If I'd opened my eyes and ears for more than a second, I'd have picked up on the fact that for some reason, she was concerned for me. I loathe the person I was in those days, probably more than Fenner himself." "As I said, people do change, no one more so than George. Before the Merriman/Atkins trial, we didn't used to be able to be in the same room for as long as five minutes without verbally scratching each other's eyes out. It was easier for her to blame me for breaking up her marriage than to look at why John had gone looking elsewhere in the first place. But that trial did something to both of us. I got a bit too emotionally involved, partly because of her presence on the opposite bench and partly because of everything I learnt about you. George on the other hand was shown in no uncertain terms the lengths her then partner would go to in order to avoid bad publicity." "But how did you get from just about managing to be civil to each other, to entering in to this three-way relationship you have with John?" "George was going through a pretty rough time, and went looking for comfort in the arms of John, knowing that he never says no to a beautiful woman. She got the shock of her life, however, when she found herself feeling guilty for doing it, not because of John, but because of me." Karen's eyes widened. "She realised that she suddenly didn't want to lose the tentative friendship we were gradually building. But the thing that brought me and George close enough to thinking of each other in that way, was your case against Fenner. We'd suddenly found some common ground, something we both felt so strongly about that it allowed us to put aside all our monumental rows of the last seventeen years." "Well," Karen said slowly. "I'm glad it achieved something good." "What I'm trying to say to you is, nearly everything happens for a reason, including the re-emergence of things about yourself and about Fenner that you'd rather forget. All your brain is doing is telling you that it's time to bring everything out, re-examine it and finally put it to rest." "That sounds like something Meg would come out with," Karen said, referring to her psychiatrist friend Meg Richards, who she had suggested to Jo as an expert witness for Lauren's case. "We have talked at length about you," Jo admitted with a small smile. "You are bound to grieve for Fenner, even though you don't think you should. Just, try not to be afraid of it. The longer you put it off, the harder it will be to do when you eventually find yourself forced in to doing it. You're not unlike John when it comes to something like this. You don't deal with things as and when they occur, because you neither have the time nor the inclination to deal with them. But when they do eventually rear their ugly heads, the emotional reaction to it is far more devastating." "What did he say to upset you earlier?" Karen asked, feeling that it was about time the conversation moved away from herself and focussed on someone else. "Don't even get me started," Jo said, some of the earlier anger returning. "Jo, I think that's what close friendship is supposed to be about," Karen said gently. "He's always had the upper hand where I'm concerned," Jo said, seeing that Karen's offer of a listening ear was as well-meant as her own had been. "Every time I do something he doesn't like, whether it's in court or out of it, he pulls the old thing of his seniority on me, and because he is professionally superior to me, I always give in. John sees no problem in sleeping with a barrister who is before him, because he knows that professionally speaking, neither he nor I will take advantage of the situation. But he will quite happily use his professional position to get what he wants personally. He's probably told you this, but when I met him, he was my tutor and he saw no problem with having an affair with one of his students. In the relationship he has with me, he's always played the role of the tutor or the judge, always having the upper hand. Just for once, it would be nice to feel his equal." "Is he like this with George?" "It's different with George." Jo lit herself another cigarette, using the action to give her some much needed thinking time, though not enabling her to come up with any other way of saying what she wanted to say. "When it comes to bed," Jo said, looking slightly away from Karen and a slight blush touching her cheeks. "George has been and always will be his equal. In that respect, I am nothing like George. She has the same level of sexual skill and experience that he has. That's why restricting him to straying with George and only George has worked. She never stopped loving him, nor he her, but they both know that they could never again live together. So, he gets the security and commitment that he's always wanted from me, and the appearance of having a mistress with George, getting from her a kind of sex life he probably won't ever get from me. John needs to feel that he's got somewhere to run if one woman lets him down, so that if either of us ever did, he'd have the other. I can feel secure that he isn't going to go back to George, and that he will also not go away from me completely with a total stranger. Much as it might have been a novel idea to start with, it does work, more than any idea I've ever had concerning John. I would just occasionally like to feel his equal rather than always feeling both professionally and sexually inferior to him." "It sounds to me like he needs reminding of what his priorities are," Karen said, thinking that John really didn't know he was born. "Yes, he probably does," Sighed Jo, "I would just like him to realise that without my having to tell him. Is that too much to ask?" "For some men," Said Karen ruefully, "Yes it is. If I thought you'd consider it," Karen continued with a little smirk, "I'd suggest you had an affair with a woman, because that would definitely make him see that he had to start working at this relationship as much as you and George clearly do." Jo laughed. "That'd be the biggest shock of his life," She said, just trying to picture John's face. "Just tell him how you feel," Karen said, turning serious again. "Tell him why you feel inferior. If he's always the initiator, which knowing John I suspect he is, surprise him, show him that you're just as capable as he is at being in control. You never know, he might actually like someone else having the upper hand for a change."
After listening to Thomas being questioned, Karen reached a conclusion, one that she had been mulling over since lunchtime. George had left soon after court was adjourned, saying that she had some work to catch up on after having been in court for two days. But Karen waited until she saw Jo emerge from court. She knew that what she was about to ask of Jo would almost certainly be refused, but Karen knew it was something she just had to ask. If she was going to finally lay her memories of Fenner to rest, this process had to begin with her knowing as much about his death as possible. "Jo, have you got a minute?" Karen asked, walking up to her. "Yes, of course," Jo replied, "What can I do for you?" "I need to ask a favour," Karen said slowly. "Something which I'm fairly sure you're going to say no to." They moved to sit down in one of the alcoves where solicitors usually talked to their clients. "Ask away," Jo invited. "Please can I see Fenner's forensic report?" "Karen, you know I can't let you do that," Jo replied slowly but firmly. "And you know that I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't something I thought I needed to do." "There are two considerations here," Jo said, "One being that I would be breaking the rules of client confidentiality, which I am not about to do unless I think it is absolutely necessary, and the second is that I don't know how good an idea it would be for you to read something like that." "I feel like it's the only way I can finally begin to get him out of my life." Jo looked thoughtful. They were then approached by Coope. "Mrs. Mills, the Judge would like to see you in chambers." "I wondered when I'd be summoned for my slap on the wrist," Jo said, getting to her feet. "If you wait here," She said to Karen, "I'll try to have an answer for you by the time I come down."
When Coope had shown Jo into John's chambers, she departed after having been tactfully asked by John to leave them to it. "Sit down," John said when Coope had left, but Jo remained standing. "John, you summoned me here to give me a verbal slap on the wrist. So please just get on with it." "Okay," He said slowly, seeing that Jo was going to be as belligerent as George still often was. "Is there a satisfactory reason for the way you behaved in court this morning?" "I was having a bad day and you made it worse. Will that do?" "No, because treating both the opposition's witnesses and the court with total disdain just isn't like you, and I will not be made to feel superfluous, or backed in to a corner in my own court." "That's what this is really about, isn't it," She said with utter certainty. "You don't like the fact that you were wrong to allow the Professor's ridiculous and utterly unfounded assertion to stand yesterday, and even more so because I proved you wrong. You don't like it when someone else has the upper hand for a while, do you." John simply stared at her. Where had she gone, where was the Jo Mills he knew and loved? "Might I remind you that it is not anyone's place but mine to have the upper hand in my court," He said quietly, though with the threat of anger just below the surface. "Don't make me put you in a cell, Jo, because any more antics like this morning, and I will." "Fine," She said icily. "Warning received and understood." "Good," He said, walking slowly towards her. "Now that the official meeting's over, you can tell me what on earth's got in to you today." He stood in front of her but she made no move to touch him. "John, I'm really not in the mood for this," She said wearily. "Well then," He said, the words attempting to smooth her ruffled feathers. "Can I see you tonight? You never know, it might just make you relax." "No, John, you can't," She said, backing a little away from him. "Why not?" "Because I am finally beginning to see just why barristers are not supposed to sleep with the Judges they are before. You always do this, John; you always pull rank on me if I'm ever showing signs of making things even slightly difficult for you. But it's never an equal fight. You always have to have the upper hand in this relationship, in court and out of it. Ever since the day I first slept with you, you've used your seniority, whether that be pupil-master or judge, to keep me exactly where you want me. Even through all those years when I refused to get back in to your bed, you kept insinuating yourself in to my professional life because you knew I still loved you. If either one of us were in a different profession, you wouldn't be able to do this to me, at least not quite as much." "And do I do this with George?" He asked when he could finally get a word in. "Before you started sleeping with her again, yes you did. But then I doubt that even you could ever have the sexual upper hand with George, and before you say a word, that wasn't an insult to George but a realistic view of myself. I would just like, for once in my life, to feel your equal." "Jo," He tried to interrupt but she hadn't finished yet. "Do you know what's really quite odd about this situation? I never thought I'd be saying this, but even George treats me like an equal these days, so why can't you?" "Jo," He finally succeeded in stopping her in her rant. "If anyone has the upper hand in this relationship, it's you and George. It was you who first had the idea of tying me down to only the two of you. That's you, Jo, not anyone else." "Then perhaps you should ask yourself why," She said furiously, after which she turned, flung open the door and slammed it behind her.
When Jo descended the stairs in to the foyer, Karen looked up to see that she had tears running freely down her cheeks. Getting up, she went over to her. "Are you all right?" "He makes me so angry!" Jo said in a mixture of tears and fury. "Do you know what," She added decisively. "I can't possibly make a worse mess of things than I already have today, so if seeing Fenner's forensic report is something you feel you need to do, then that's fine by me." "Jo," Karen said cautiously. "Don't just say yes to this because you know it would make him cross." "Every decision in my life doesn't have to revolve around John," Jo said, searching in her handbag for a tissue. "I know," Replied Karen gently. "But I don't want you to regret it." "If breaking client confidentiality in the name of closure is the worst thing I ever do, then I think I can live with it. But you'll have to come back with me to my office if you really want to see it. Firstly, because I don't want the fingerprints of any unauthorized person anywhere near the documentation for this case because I've had enough run ins with the professional conduct committee to last me a life time, and secondly, because I am not breaking my professional code of practice in the immediate vicinity of even one court officer." She had found a tissue by this time and wiped her eyes. "Thank you," Karen said, wondering if she would be thinking that after going through with her wish.
As she followed Jo's tail-lights through the rain and the rush hour traffic, Karen couldn't help but feel a sense of fear-laden anticipation. Finding out the exact details of Fenner's death, and not just those necessary for the court case, was perhaps the most personal way she could ever have invaded his space. But might this just be why she was doing it? To have the last laugh, the last word? Finally, after too many tortured dreams and endless phases of self-doubt and self-recrimination, she would have won, and he would have lost. When she drew up beside Jo's car, she could see that Jo had taken the opportunity whilst sitting in too many traffic jams to repair the ravages to her face. Following Jo up the carpeted stairs to her office, Karen was forced to remember the first time she had come here, and knew that the sense of nervousness wasn't very different from that occasion. Jo's office was warm, the shelves crammed with books and box files, the cluttered desk and the case files piled in one of the visitors' chairs making the room look and feel lived in. Jo immediately moved to her desk and switched on the computer, waiting for the screen to light up and eventually typing in her password. Karen watched as she moved the mouse familiarly through her electronic workspace, opening folders, scrolling down file names and finally clicking on a Word document, which began to appear in tiny pixels on the screen. "Would you like a cup of tea?" She said to Karen, gesturing for her to take the swivel chair in front of the desk. "Yes please," Karen replied as she sat down, knowing that this was Jo's way of saying, what I don't see you read can't possibly hurt me. When Jo quietly left the room and closed the door, Karen began to read.
"Name: James Fenner. Date of Discovery: 12/10/03. Approximate date of death: 05/10/03. Primary cause of Death: inhalation of soil in to the lungs resulting in suffocation. Manner of Death: homicide. Attending forensic Pathologist: Professor Sam Ryan.
Attached to this report are photographs of every stage of the procedure, toxicology reports containing James Fenner's blood alcohol results plus any other substances found in his system, x-ray films, histology slides and a report on the bullet retrieved from his body.
When Mr. Fenner's body was first presented to me, his initial x-ray showed a bullet to be lodged in his spine, just above the navel. I did not think that this injury would have been immediately life threatening, unless it had struck the iliac artery, and I was proved right on closer examination. Once Mr. Fenner had been unclothed, I could determine that this gunshot wound was not a contact injury, meaning that the shot was fired from some distance away. This was ascertained by the lack of gunshot residue on the surrounding skin, the lack of a muzzle mark on the skin, and the fact that the bullet had slowed down enough by the time it reached the body to lodge itself in the spine, rather than passing straight through. I would estimate that this bullet was not intended to cause maximum damage but only to incapacitate the victim. I make this assertion as if maximum injury were the intended outcome, either Mr. Fenner would have been shot in an alternative place, or a bullet such as the Smith and Wesson black tallon would have been used. The gunshot injury was proved not to be the cause of death on examination of the mouth and internal organs. There were particles of soil, matched to that found in the area where James Fenner's body was discovered, clinging to the insides of his mouth and throat. This initially indicated that he might have been suffocated.
In order to conduct the internal examination, I performed a sterno-pubic incision on James Fenner. This looks exactly like a letter Y. It begins at each clavicle or collarbone, the two branches of the Y meeting at the sternum or breastbone, then descending to just above the genitals, making a slight detour around the naval, or in Mr. Fenner's case, around his abdominal gunshot wound.
On opening the chest cavity, I first excised the heart. This was done by transection of the aorta, the vena cava, the pulmonary artery and pulmonary vein. James Fenner had mild coronary artery disease, which was possibly the result of a lifestyle consisting mainly of smoking, drinking and a protracted period of unhealthy living. The heart did show signs of severe strain, almost certainly caused at or before the time of death due to blood loss and a lack of oxygenated blood.
Before proceeding to an in-depth examination of the lungs, I was able to verify that the laryngeal nerve was in tact, meaning that James Fenner would certainly have been able to shout for help and to plead with his killer any time up until he began to feel the effects of a lack of oxygen. The fact that he didn't succeed in attracting any attention to his predicament could suggest one of two things: either there was nobody in the vicinity who would have heard his cry for help, or that he knew his killer and assumed that he or she wouldn't go through with their suggested course of action.
I then progressed to James Fenner's lungs, excising them as far up the trachea as possible to attempt to keep it in tact. There were many soil particles clinging to the interior of the trachea, the bronchioles and the superior alveoli or air sacs. This confirmed my diagnosis that James Fenner had died by suffocation, as a result of inhaling earth particles. For such a quantity of soil to be present in Mr. Fenner's lungs, it would have been necessary for him to have been submerged in a growing mound of earth. Once his brain began reacting to a severe lack of oxygen, he would have quickly become unconscious, but this would not have prevented his lungs from trying to breathe involuntarily. This can be illustrated by histological examination of the alveolar tissue. When the lungs are continuously trying to maintain a satisfactory oxygen level in a rapidly decreasing air supply, they will therefore breathe faster and faster to cope with the lack of oxygenated air. This causes the collapse of the alveolar framework, (both of ducts and air sacs), resulting in the overlap of the alveolar and eventually the pulmonary septa. This in turn resulted in the decrease of the space needed for the exchange between oxygenated and de-oxygenated air. This rapid change in pulmonary architecture would have meant that only de-oxygenated blood was reaching the heart through the pulmonary vein. Whether the severe pulmonary obstruction or the lack of oxygenated blood to reach the heart was the first thing to kill him, we can never be certain. Either way, once James Fenner was submerged in earth, almost certainly poured on to his face from above, he would have died within minutes.
I then moved my examination to Mr. Fenner's gunshot wound. In doing so, I discovered a substantial amount of scar tissue from a previous injury, possibly from a stabbing or a major abdominal operation. The bullet had penetrated Mr. Fenner's body at the lower end of his abdominal scar, the extensive internal scar tissue almost certainly slowing the bullet down. The bullet was lodged in the spine at L5, in the superior bone of the lumbar sacral junction. Mr. Fenner would not have been able to feel any sensation below this point, which would have meant that he was unable to stand or walk, or move his lower body in any way. If, as I suspect, he was standing where he was eventually buried when he was shot, he would have been totally unable to drag himself out of the firing line. If Mr. Fenner had not been buried alive, then he would have eventually died from blood loss, though this could have taken anything up to a few hours, due to the fact that his wound did not hit any major veins or arteries. Except with the use of his arms, Mr. Fenner would have had no chance whatsoever of defending himself against his killer.
Judging by the fact that James Fenner's fingerprints were present on the spade that was recovered, I would estimate that he was forced at gunpoint to dig his own grave, then to stand in the grave whilst he was shot. He then had to watch as earth was gradually heaped over his face. It must be made clear at this point that whoever killed James Fenner buried him extremely skillfully, and that he would not have been found for a considerable amount of time had it not been for the ingenuity of a very inquisitive Labrador. In considering this crime, going by the location, method and initial success in concealing Mr. Fenner's body, it would not be beyond the call of duty for me to suggest that Mr. Fenner did know the identity of his killer. Something, some reason made him do exactly what he was told on that journey to Epping Forest.
Note on the firearm
Mr. James Fenner was shot with a nine millimetre Remington cartridge, discharged from a Sig Sauer nine millimetre pistol. In the solving of homicide cases, this gun and this type of bullet are always useful, in that the cartridge case is always discharged along with the bullet, and in Mr. Fenner's case, his killer forgot to remove it from the scene. The firing pin of this type of pistol always leaves a very small scratch on the side of the cartridge case which, when compared with a suspect gun, can be matched with the same unique preciseness as a fingerprint. After a wide and detailed search, the gun was found together with the spade that was used to bury James Fenner. The firing pin of the Sig Sauer pistol was matched with the groove on the side of the cartridge case, stating without doubt that it was this gun that was used. Interestingly, whilst the spade still contained particles of soil, plus the fingerprints of Mr. Fenner and his killer, the gun had been expertly cleaned. The internal workings had been freshly lubricated with gun oil, and the external surfaces scrubbed with Hops9 solvent. This had clearly been done by someone who knows about guns and who is used to maintaining their own weapons on a regular basis. The gun also contained some identifying details of its own. Engraved just above the trigger, were the letters CJA. It must also be noted that the five remaining bullets had been removed from the gun before it was disposed of. To all intents and purposes, this gun, were it to be found in the hands of a licensed owner, would not appear to have been recently used. This was without doubt an attempt to mislead police officers and to conceal the perpetration of James Fenner's murder..."
Karen continued reading, but all the essentials had been spelt out to her in the stark, all too vivid words of someone who had simply been doing their job. She was ashamed to feel tears on her face, to see in her reflection from the monitor that her eyes held only pain, only grief for the Fenner who had once said he loved her. It was funny, but that had been the one thing he'd ever said to her that inwardly she'd never doubted. He had believed that he hadn't raped her, that he could never do something like that to her. Even in his twisted, screwed up fashion he had loved her. But if she was grieving for the Fenner she had once loved, then where did that put her when it came to Yvonne, and what Yvonne's daughter had so ruthlessly done to him. She didn't know. All the feelings she had, plus all the feelings she knew she ought to have, were so mixed up in her head that she didn't know where one set of thoughts ended and the next began.
Jo had taken a good deal longer than necessary to make two mugs of tea, knowing that Karen would need some space to do this. Jo still wasn't convinced that it was a good thing, but maybe Karen needed to be allowed to make a decision for herself for once where Fenner was concerned. But as she gently pushed open her office door, she could feel Karen's pain and confusion as if it was almost tangible. Putting the mugs down on the coffee table and softly closing the door, Jo walked over to the desk. Seeing that Karen couldn't possibly still see the screen through her tears, Jo switched the monitor off, removing the practical horrors of Fenner's death and returning it to a friendly, impersonal blank. Putting her arms gently round her, Jo held Karen to her, gently rubbing the slightly trembling shoulders, Karen's head softly nestled against Jo's body. After a while, Karen looked up. "I had to do it," She said, desperately wanting Jo to understand. "I know," Jo said softly, remembering what George had told her of Karen's flashback the day before, and realising that this had been Karen's attempt to take control of her memories of Fenner, to begin to exorcise them before they took over her psyche. "I'm not supposed to feel like this," Karen said, eventually detaching herself from Jo and reaching for the box of tissues on the desk. "I'm supposed to be relieved that he's no longer here, that he can never again do to me or anyone else the kind of thing he got away with for years. I'm supposed to be able to consign all my memories of Fenner to somewhere where they can't come back to haunt me, like the memory of the person I was when I lived with him." Jo simply stood and waited. "I was a complete cow when I loved and lived with Fenner," Karen added bitterly. "So was George before you got to know her," Jo found herself saying. "People change." They moved over to the two chairs under the window, between which was the coffee table that contained their mugs of tea and an ashtray. "Karen, one thing you must not do," Jo said as she lit a cigarette and handed it to Karen, after which she lit one for herself. "Is to blame yourself for anything you are feeling." "It's not quite that simple though, is it." "No, it's not, and I think this is only the beginning. Ever since that first day when I came to see Lauren, and she told me what she'd done to Fenner, I thought something like this might happen. It became blindingly obvious to me that you knew nothing of the real circumstances of his death, and even though I tried to persuade Yvonne to tell you, we reached the trial and you still didn't know. That's why I made sure there was someone in the public gallery who I could trust to deal with any emotional reaction you might have to hearing the details of how your once lover, because that's what he was, had died. Even now it feels odd to be able to say that I trust George, but with something like this, I do. But in the end, it wasn't the details of his death that caused you to relive something you thought you'd forgotten." "Did she tell you what did make me walk out of court?" "Yes. Have you thought about why it was that particular incident that you remembered?" "I didn't think about much else on Monday night, and I think it was because that was the start of Fenner wielding his influence over me. From that time until Virginia O'Kane was killed, I accepted every word he said as being gospel. I wouldn't listen to anyone who tried to vilify him. I remember the day after he assaulted Helen, she was trying to find out whether or not I was living with him. If I'd opened my eyes and ears for more than a second, I'd have picked up on the fact that for some reason, she was concerned for me. I loathe the person I was in those days, probably more than Fenner himself." "As I said, people do change, no one more so than George. Before the Merriman/Atkins trial, we didn't used to be able to be in the same room for as long as five minutes without verbally scratching each other's eyes out. It was easier for her to blame me for breaking up her marriage than to look at why John had gone looking elsewhere in the first place. But that trial did something to both of us. I got a bit too emotionally involved, partly because of her presence on the opposite bench and partly because of everything I learnt about you. George on the other hand was shown in no uncertain terms the lengths her then partner would go to in order to avoid bad publicity." "But how did you get from just about managing to be civil to each other, to entering in to this three-way relationship you have with John?" "George was going through a pretty rough time, and went looking for comfort in the arms of John, knowing that he never says no to a beautiful woman. She got the shock of her life, however, when she found herself feeling guilty for doing it, not because of John, but because of me." Karen's eyes widened. "She realised that she suddenly didn't want to lose the tentative friendship we were gradually building. But the thing that brought me and George close enough to thinking of each other in that way, was your case against Fenner. We'd suddenly found some common ground, something we both felt so strongly about that it allowed us to put aside all our monumental rows of the last seventeen years." "Well," Karen said slowly. "I'm glad it achieved something good." "What I'm trying to say to you is, nearly everything happens for a reason, including the re-emergence of things about yourself and about Fenner that you'd rather forget. All your brain is doing is telling you that it's time to bring everything out, re-examine it and finally put it to rest." "That sounds like something Meg would come out with," Karen said, referring to her psychiatrist friend Meg Richards, who she had suggested to Jo as an expert witness for Lauren's case. "We have talked at length about you," Jo admitted with a small smile. "You are bound to grieve for Fenner, even though you don't think you should. Just, try not to be afraid of it. The longer you put it off, the harder it will be to do when you eventually find yourself forced in to doing it. You're not unlike John when it comes to something like this. You don't deal with things as and when they occur, because you neither have the time nor the inclination to deal with them. But when they do eventually rear their ugly heads, the emotional reaction to it is far more devastating." "What did he say to upset you earlier?" Karen asked, feeling that it was about time the conversation moved away from herself and focussed on someone else. "Don't even get me started," Jo said, some of the earlier anger returning. "Jo, I think that's what close friendship is supposed to be about," Karen said gently. "He's always had the upper hand where I'm concerned," Jo said, seeing that Karen's offer of a listening ear was as well-meant as her own had been. "Every time I do something he doesn't like, whether it's in court or out of it, he pulls the old thing of his seniority on me, and because he is professionally superior to me, I always give in. John sees no problem in sleeping with a barrister who is before him, because he knows that professionally speaking, neither he nor I will take advantage of the situation. But he will quite happily use his professional position to get what he wants personally. He's probably told you this, but when I met him, he was my tutor and he saw no problem with having an affair with one of his students. In the relationship he has with me, he's always played the role of the tutor or the judge, always having the upper hand. Just for once, it would be nice to feel his equal." "Is he like this with George?" "It's different with George." Jo lit herself another cigarette, using the action to give her some much needed thinking time, though not enabling her to come up with any other way of saying what she wanted to say. "When it comes to bed," Jo said, looking slightly away from Karen and a slight blush touching her cheeks. "George has been and always will be his equal. In that respect, I am nothing like George. She has the same level of sexual skill and experience that he has. That's why restricting him to straying with George and only George has worked. She never stopped loving him, nor he her, but they both know that they could never again live together. So, he gets the security and commitment that he's always wanted from me, and the appearance of having a mistress with George, getting from her a kind of sex life he probably won't ever get from me. John needs to feel that he's got somewhere to run if one woman lets him down, so that if either of us ever did, he'd have the other. I can feel secure that he isn't going to go back to George, and that he will also not go away from me completely with a total stranger. Much as it might have been a novel idea to start with, it does work, more than any idea I've ever had concerning John. I would just occasionally like to feel his equal rather than always feeling both professionally and sexually inferior to him." "It sounds to me like he needs reminding of what his priorities are," Karen said, thinking that John really didn't know he was born. "Yes, he probably does," Sighed Jo, "I would just like him to realise that without my having to tell him. Is that too much to ask?" "For some men," Said Karen ruefully, "Yes it is. If I thought you'd consider it," Karen continued with a little smirk, "I'd suggest you had an affair with a woman, because that would definitely make him see that he had to start working at this relationship as much as you and George clearly do." Jo laughed. "That'd be the biggest shock of his life," She said, just trying to picture John's face. "Just tell him how you feel," Karen said, turning serious again. "Tell him why you feel inferior. If he's always the initiator, which knowing John I suspect he is, surprise him, show him that you're just as capable as he is at being in control. You never know, he might actually like someone else having the upper hand for a change."