A Game of Proof

‘I see.’ Again Turner paused, and the eyes of the jury strayed to Simon in the dock, imagining him threatening two policemen, and lying about the ownership of the knife. Sarah guessed what was coming next.

‘At this point, did Mr Newby mention anything about Jasmine cutting her finger with the breadknife?’

‘Nothing at all, sir, no.’

‘Did he ever suggest that to you?’

‘No, never.’

‘So it’s fair to say, is it, that this explanation for the blood on his knife and trainer is something that he now relies on for his defence, but which he failed to mention when interviewed?’

‘It is, sir, yes.’

‘Very well. Let us move on to another aspect of the defence case, if we may. Can I ask you to look back at that statement which Mr Newby wrote, after meeting Mrs Parsons. Does it say anywhere that Simon made love to Miss Hurst on Thursday 13th May?’

Churchill pretended to consult the document, then looked up. ‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘What does it say happened that afternoon?’

‘It says ‘I met her by the river and she came back to my house for a meal. I asked her to come back to live with me but she wouldn’t. We argued about this and then she left.’ That’s all. Nothing about making love.’

‘So at what point did Mr Newby mention this to you?’

‘When I told him that Miss Hurst had been raped before she died. I said we’d found traces of semen, and so DNA analysis would identify the man who raped and murdered her.’

‘And what was his response?’

‘At that point he said that the semen would be his. He claimed that he had made love to Jasmine earlier that afternoon.’

‘Did he admit that he had raped her?’

‘No sir. I asked him about that and he said he had not.’

‘I see. But again it’s fair to say, is it, that in his original handwritten statement he made no mention of this act of sexual intercourse which he is now trying to use in his defence? He only came up with it when confronted with the evidence.’

‘That’s correct, yes.’

Phil Turner waited for a moment, rubbing his ear as though wondering if there were anything he had missed. Several jurors were scowling at Simon with unconcealed disgust.

‘Thank you, Chief Inspector. Wait there, please.’

When Sarah stood up, Churchill faced her with a polite, contemptuous smile. The trick in situations like this, as they both knew, was to put the police in as bad a light as possible.

‘Mr Churchill,’ she asked, refusing to dignify him with his rank. ‘What time of day was it that you arrested my son?’

‘At 3.47 a.m., madam.’ Madam was an exquisite touch. As he spoke he looked away from her towards the jury, to suggest that she was troubling him with trivialities.

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’ Reluctantly he looked back at her.

‘Why did you arrest him so early in the morning?’

A look of amazement crossed Churchill’s face. ‘He was the suspect in a serious murder case. I arrested him as soon as I could. The Scarborough police spotted his car late that night and I drove immediately to Scarborough to arrest him.’ What’s wrong with that, his look said.

‘So he was asleep when you arrived, was he?’

‘He was in bed asleep, yes.’

‘And did you make the arrest alone, or with other officers?’

‘With two Scarborough officers and DC Easby.’

‘I see. So at quarter to four in the morning, Simon Newby was asleep in his bed. Two minutes later, four policemen burst into his bedroom and arrested him. You told him why he was being arrested and informed him of his rights. In a loud, slow voice, I think you said.’

‘I spoke slowly. I didn’t say my voice was loud.’

‘While he was still in bed?’

‘Yes.’

‘And then you handcuffed him?’

‘Yes.’

‘And took him outside to your police car?’

‘We did, yes.’

‘What was he wearing at this time?’

‘His pyjamas.’

‘I see.’ Sarah looked at the jury to see what effect, if any, her questions were having. Most looked reasonably alert, at least. ‘So let me get this picture right. Here we have a young man, fast asleep in his bed at 3.45 in the morning, when suddenly he wakes up to find four police officers in his bedroom shouting at him. Before he can get out of bed they tell him his girlfriend is dead and that he is being arrested for her murder. Then they handcuff him, drag him downstairs and put him in a police car. Is that what happened?’

‘Madam, he was being arrested on a very — serious — charge.’ Churchill spoke slowly and clearly, as though explaining to a slow-witted child. Someone in the public gallery laughed.

‘And then you interrogated him,’ said Sarah coldly.

‘I beg your pardon? When, exactly?’

‘In the police car. You asked him questions in the police car, didn’t you? On the way back from Scarborough.’

‘No, madam, we did not. I’ve already explained that.’

‘I think you did. My client remembers very clearly that you asked him questions in the police car.’

‘No, madam, we didn’t ask him any questions until we got back to York.’

‘Well, you say that, but I put it to you that you did ask him questions in the police car.’

‘No.’

‘My client clearly remembers that you did. He will give evidence that you did.’

‘We did not.’

‘You see, this is a vital point, isn’t it, Mr Churchill? I suppose even you can appreciate the feelings of a young man who has been dragged out of his bed by four strangers in the middle of the night, forced into a car, and told that his girlfriend is dead. How would you expect that young man to feel? Confused, perhaps? Terrified? Overcome by grief? All of those things?’

‘He might be overcome by guilt.’

‘Not if he was innocent.’ She paused and glanced at the jury. ‘Mr Churchill, there are rules to protect suspects in these situations, are there not? Do you remember what they are?’

Churchill sighed, and spoke in a monotone as though deliberately reciting something he had learned off by heart. ‘A suspect who has been arrested should not be questioned further until he is in an interview room in a police station where the interview can be recorded on tape.’

‘Exactly. And one of the purposes of those rules is to protect the accused, isn’t it? From being unfairly harassed when he is handcuffed in the back of a police car, for instance.’

‘That may be one purpose, yes. Another is to protect the police from false accusations by unscrupulous lawyers.’

Touche, she thought. But Sarah was playing the game for real today. ‘I put it to you, Mr Churchill, that you knowingly and deliberately broke these rules in the most cynical manner. Not only did you arrest this young man quite unnecessarily in the middle of the night, in a way calculated to terrify him out of his wits; you then handcuffed him, told him his girlfriend was dead, and then interrogated him inyour car while he was overcome with grief and shock.’

‘No …’ Churchill shook his head.