Part Seventy-Three
At the end of the lunchtime adjournment, Yvonne caught up with Jo and George as they grabbed a last minute cigarette on the front steps. "I see you've managed to stay quiet so far," George commented dryly, giving Yvonne a smile. "There's still time," Yvonne promised her lightly. "But it isn't me that you're likely to have a problem with," She added seriously. "What's happened?" Jo asked, thinking that they already had quite enough to get through without further complications. "You both know that Barbara was married to someone called Peter." This was a statement not a question, because Yvonne knew they were both aware of Barbara's previous marriages, both real and fictitious. "Well, the two little bastards sitting on the other side of the aisle to me and Roisin, are her two step-kids, Peter's children. Their names are Greg and Amanda Hunt, and they made Barbara's life hell when she was married to their father, as well as trying to get at her while she was inside. Barbara won't be able to see them from the dock, but I don't know how quiet they're planning to be." "John's warning was for everyone," Jo pointed out. "Not just a familiar select few." "And how much notice have I ever taken of it?" Yvonne said a little exasperatedly. "Absolutely none," George confirmed with a grin. "Exactly," Replied Yvonne. "Look, they hated Barbara, and they aren't likely to waste any opportunity to make things even more difficult for her. That other guy, the one who's acting for the prosecution..." "Brian Cantwell," Jo filled in for her. "...Yeah, does he know that this isn't Barbara's first time in the dock?" "Good question," George said approvingly. "But we've no way of knowing. Even if he does, he certainly can't reveal it. The jury aren't allowed to know things like that. They must judge the facts of this trial purely on their own merit, not with the added bonus of further information." "No, but he could get someone else to do it," Yvonne said with the weight of a falling bombshell. "That's what I'd do if I was in his position, get either her bastard step-children, or some witless cow like Sylvia Hollamby to let it out. The jury might be asked to disregard it, but that won't make them forget." "Yvonne, just how long have you been working for the legal profession?" George asked with a fond smile. "Too long for my own bleedin' good," Yvonne said ruefully. "Thank you for letting us know," Jo told her. "We wondered who they were."
As the court reconvened after the lunchtime adjournment, George took a good look at the two people sitting across from Yvonne and Roisin in the public gallery. All their attention was focused on the trial, their faces pinched with an enormous amount of unresolved anger. They ought to keep an eye on those two, as they could pose a very serious risk to Barbara's eventual verdict.
As Sam Ryan took the book in her right hand and proclaimed the oath, Brian Cantwell stepped forward. "Professor Ryan," He began in his most forthright of tones. "You were the pathologist to initially examine the Reverend Henry Mills. Correct?" "Yes," She answered him, her pretty, Irish lilt making John recognise her instantly as the woman who had testified at the Lauren Atkins trial. "And what were your initial findings as to his cause of death?" "As I explained in my report, I examined Henry Mills' body on the day after his death. He had been suffering from terminal lung cancer, and had been cared for at home by his wife, Barbara Mills. When I examined Henry Mills' body, I discovered the cancer to be extremely advanced. The metastases had built up on his lungs in such a way that he had clearly been finding it difficult to breathe in the last days if not weeks of his life. He had been prescribed the commonly used painkiller Diamorphine to combat the pain, and this had been administered also by his wife, who I assume had been taught to give an injection. The cancer had noticeably invaded other parts of Henry Mills' body, including his liver and his pancreas. As a result of how invasive and particularly brutal lung cancer can be, all of his major organs were in a serious state of either disease or partial shut down."
"Now, Professor Ryan, perhaps you would explain to the court in what state you found Henry Mills' liver?" "When a person is taking Morphine in significant amounts over a prolonged period of time," Sam explained. "It has a tendency to build up in the body's major organs, such as the kidneys and the liver. This is almost certain to take place if the person in question is leading a sedentary lifestyle, such as lying in bed for long stretches of time as would be expected of a terminally ill patient. The metabolites of Morphine, that is what is left of the drug once it has been processed by the body, had built up significantly in Henry Mill's liver, to a point that would have severely impaired his liver function. Henry Mills' organs were slowing down every day, meaning that the body was unable to process chemicals at the normal rate."
"Taking all this into consideration," John suddenly broke in. "Might this have meant that a recommended dose of Morphine could have been too high a dose for a man in his condition?" George was furious. Not even one day in and he was at it already. "My Lord," She said, swiftly rising to her feet. "Do you have an objection for me already, Ms Channing?" He asked her mildly. "Simply that if you would allow the defence to cross-examine Professor Ryan in the usual manner, you would be given the answers to your no doubt numerous questions in due course." "You are of course correct, Ms Channing," John replied, gesturing for her to regain her seat. "I am allowing my natural curiosity for the facts to outweigh the correct procedure. I'm sure the court will forgive me. Might I also take this opportunity, Professor Ryan, to say that I am delighted to see you in my court once again. Please continue." "Do you wish me to answer the question, My Lord?" Sam enquired sweetly. "If you wouldn't mind," John replied in his most cordial manner, making George's hackles rise with the warning of an approaching indiscretion. "You are correct, My Lord, in that the recommended and prescribed dose of Morphine that would have been given to Henry Mills, could easily have been too high for his liver to cope with, as a result of the build up of Morphine metabolites. This does not however mean that his death was caused by an accidental overdose."
"And just how was his death caused?" Brian moved in on her again, wanting to regain the reins from this most irritating of judges. "There is no doubt that Henry Mills died from an overdose of Diamorphine," Sam replied without hesitation. "Though my findings indicate that this was definitely not as a result of an accident." "And precisely what do your findings indicate?" Brian asked her silkily, glancing smugly over at George who was taking almost as many notes as the court stenographer. "Henry Mills' usual doses of Morphine, were given via an intravenous canula and a syringe driver. When I examined his body, I discovered what was unmistakably an intra-muscular injection site on his right thigh. On further examination by a toxicologist, the muscle surrounding the injection site was found to contain a significant amount of Diamorphine. This indicated a separately given injection, one very different from the usual dose given via the syringe driver." "Given Henry Mills' general ill health," Brian continued. "Could he himself have injected the Morphine?" "No," Sam again said without any hint of hesitation. "He would not have had the strength required to obtain the syringe, fill it with Morphine, and inject himself, all without his wife being made aware of what he was doing." "We can therefore only assume, ladies and gentlemen," Brian said smugly, looking over at the members of the jury. "That it was Barbara Mills, his loving and caring wife, who administered this fatal dose of such a lethal drug."
"Is that all, Mr. Cantwell?" John asked in slight surprise. "Succinct and to the point, My Lord," He replied with a sardonic smile. "I thought that was how you liked your barristers." John laughed. "Only when they adequately do their job, Mr. Cantwell, only then I assure you. Now, as I suspect the defence will go on at length with their cross-examination, as they quite rightly should," He added at a stony-faced look from George. "We will adjourn until tomorrow morning." As he rose and left through the door behind the judge's bench, Brian openly turned and smirked at Jo and George. "Oh, you may think it's one nil to you at the moment," George assured him sweetly. "But I can promise you that it'll be two one to us by the end of tomorrow." "We all need some form of false security, Mrs. Channing," Brian replied as he swept towards the door. "Yes, the difference being that you already think you've got it," George called smartly after him.
When everyone had left, including the occupants of the public gallery, George turned and looked at Jo. Her face was closed, shuttered, as though she couldn't bear to share the thoughts that were going on inside her head. "Are you all right?" George asked her, gently touching her hand. Trying to rouse herself, seeming to come back to full awareness, Jo looked softly back at her. "I'm fine," She said, though it didn't sound remotely convincing. "And I'm still nineteen," George replied drolly. "Start talking to me." "Do you really think she's innocent?" Jo asked, astonishing George entirely. "Barbara? Yes, of course I do," George insisted vehemently. "Jo, this really isn't the time to start having doubts." "I know," Jo said regretfully. "And I don't want to have them, believe me. But when Professor Ryan sounded so certain, I couldn't help wondering. She did it once, remember, and it wouldn't be such a stretch of the imagination to think she might have done it again, because I can assure you, I know just what she would have been going through." "This isn't really about Barbara, is it?" George asked in realisation. "This is about you, and you wondering if you could have done what Barbara is accused of doing." "Well, the thought is somewhat unavoidable," Jo said dryly. "I knew you would do this," George said exasperatedly. "I knew this would happen. Jo, this is precisely why I wanted you to have absolutely nothing to do with this case, because I didn't want you to reopen old wounds at a time when they need to remain closed." "Don't you dare say I told you so," Jo said quietly but with a hint of anger. "Why?" George retorted immediately. "Because knowing that I was right about something would be just too much to bear, wouldn't it." "That isn't fair," Jo replied, her anger rising. "Jo, if you're questioning the validity of your own client's testimony at this early stage, then my concern is entirely justified," George replied tartly. "So, please go home, try to relax, and make your mind up as to whether or not you can continue to support your client."
They'd been so completely submerged in their argument, that they had both utterly failed to notice John's stealthy entrance through the door they normally used. "Are you two arguing already, and the case only one day in?" They both looked over at him in guilty surprise. But when they both remained silent, neither of them willing to share the reason for their fraught words, he said, "Oh, dear, like that, is it?" "This slight disagreement is not for your consumption, My Lord," George replied firmly, giving him his title to further hammer home her assertion. "Oh, come on, it can't be that bad," He said, walking over and laying a hand on each of their shoulders. Taking Jo's hand in his left and George's in his right, he pulled them to their feet. "Now," He said, putting an arm around each of them. "Whatever it is, it ends, now, for your client's sake if nothing else."