Keith Imrie wrote that article he may as well have signed his own death warrant.
Of course I couldn’t have been sure what would happen to Imrie when I set out to frame him but there was no regret. Kirkwood’s unwelcome appearance in my plans gave me opportunity. I already had all the motive I needed.
How could he do that?
Her fault. He as good as said so. That hideous interview with Wallace Ogilvie’s wife. Defending the indefensible.
It was much later that I learned of Imrie’s motives, the grubby motives of a grubby little man. He didn’t know Ogilvie but knew someone that knew him very well. A contact of Imrie’s inside the council was a friend and close business associate of Ogilvie’s. This contact fed Imrie tip-offs, told him about contracts up for grabs and who was doing what to get them. Told him about the movers and shakers and what they were up to. Who was shagging who, who was bribing who, who owed who and why. Supplied him with enough information to allow a struggling hack to get out of the court and council circuit and onto the front page.
Such information always comes at a price though. A favour owed, a debt due, a soul sold. That is how Wallace Ogilvie drunken murderer became painted as a pillar of the community, a man who did so much for charity and made one small error of judgement, paying a terrible price for the actions of a wayward girl. Daily Record. Thursday, 7 February 2004. Page 7.
Wife defends convicted fundraiser
By Keith Imrie, Chief Reporter THE WIFE of Wallace Ogilvie, the prominent businessman facing jail for his involvement in a tragic accident which claimed the life of a young girl, has spoken out in defence of her husband. Marjorie Ogilvie has told of her husband’s anguish after he was found guilty of being over the legal blood alcohol limit when his car struck 11-year-old pedestrian Sarah Reynolds in August last year. Mr Ogilvie was also found guilty of death by dangerous driving. Sheriff Robert Burke has deferred sentence awaiting background reports. ‘My husband is most definitely not the type to drink and drive,’ she said. ‘Wallace frequently attends business lunches so some measure of entertainment is inevitable but he is not irresponsible. He might have a glass of wine or perhaps a whisky to be sociable. It is part of his job. But he wouldn’t have more than that. I think someone must have spiked his drink or perhaps the barman poured the wrong measure by mistake. ‘My husband is an important member of this community and does substantial work for charity. It is very unfair that he is being prosecuted, I would go as far as to say persecuted, over this unfortunate accident. ‘My heart goes out to the family of this young girl but I do have to wonder why they are so insistent on this being dragged through the courts. I feel that it is probably a feeling of guilt on their part that is making them do it. ‘We are parents too and we know that you cannot watch them 24 hours a day. However we would certainly not have let ours run wild and unsupervised at that age. Perhaps her parents are wondering whether their daughter would still be alive if she had been brought up better and taught the simple rules of road safety.’ It is understood that Mr Ogilvie, who had held a clean driving licence for 27 years, had little chance to avoid hitting the girl who was in the middle of the road. The Daily Record spoke to a witness to the accident who preferred to remain anonymous. ‘It was a terrible thing. The girl ran into the road and the car didn’t have a chance to stop. I think she was mucking around with her friends. Some of the kids round here are a bit wild. The girl was killed right away. The poor guy driving the car was distraught but he couldn’t have done anything about it.’ Ronald Cooke, spokesman for the Motorist’s Association, said that drivers were increasingly paying a heavy price for the ‘erratic behaviour’ of pedestrians. ‘Clearly we cannot condone drink driving,’ he said. ‘But there is also a responsibility on other road users to avoid accidents. Motorists have a right to expect pedestrians to obey the laws of the road. ‘We have seen incidents where children and young adults have blatantly put their own lives at risk with their erratic behaviour. They are also endangering the lives of drivers and putting them in positions where accidents cannot be avoided.’ Mrs Ogilvie said that her husband was anxious to avoid a jail sentence, as it would seriously hinder his charity work. ‘Wallace does so much good work for local children’s charities and it would break his heart not to be able to continue with that. He is not worried about prison for his own sake but he has projects which are at a vital stage and he is so worried that they will fail without him. There is so much money at stake and it would be terrible if the children missed out. ‘We are hopeful that the judge will use common sense and impose perhaps a community service order. That would allow Wallace to devote even more time to helping people and surely that would be of more benefit to everyone.’ The family of Sarah Reynolds were unavailable for comment.
My daughter did not run into the road. My daughter was crossing the road carefully. My daughter was not wild. My daughter was very well behaved.
Wallace Ogilvie was drunk. Wallace Ogilvie was more than twice the drink-driving limit. Wallace Ogilvie was driving at over 40 mph in a 30 mph zone. Wallace Ogilvie was a murderer. Wallace Ogilvie murdered my daughter. Wallace Ogilvie ended up spending one year in prison.
There was no anonymous witness. Keith Imrie made that up. I listened to every word spoken by every witness who was in court. None of them would have said anything close to that.
Ronald Cooke did not say all those things. I spoke to Ronald Cooke. Keith Imrie misquoted him.
We were not unavailable for comment. We very much wanted to comment.
His words, his weasel words, kept coming back to me. Like angry, hurtful, stabbing reminders. Salt in my open wounds.
Poor guy.
Erratic behaviour.
Bit wild.
Unsupervised.
Heavy price.
Accident.
Charity work.
Spiked his drink.
Break his heart.
Mucking around.
Guilt.
Persecuted.
Unfortunate accident.
The words were like arrows. Like grenades. Like bear traps. Like a kick in the balls when you are lying beaten on the ground.
Keith Imrie was a liar. Keith Imrie defiled my daughter’s memory. Keith Imrie could not do that. Couldn’t do that and get away with it. What kind of reporter would write a thing like that about a dead girl? What sort of father wouldn’t do anything for his daughter? Screw your eyes wide shut and make a wish. Do anything to bring her back. Anything.
CHAPTER 48
Ingram Street on a cool, damp morning in May. Tourists wrapped up in jumpers and waterproofs, locals dressed in T-shirts. Cars crashing through puddles, pedestrians jumping. Buses spewing out exhaust fumes, a sharp wind chasing litter down the street. People hurrying to nowhere. A nowhere paved with dog shit, chewing gum and paper bags from Greggs.
Glasgow unchanged.
The Cutter had gone away and in two minutes flat it was as if he had never been there. And maybe he never had.
I still walked among them, untouched, unknown, uncaught. Blown past them in the wind, only seen out of the corner of a bleary eye, half-glimpsed, soon forgotten. There was a cup final coming on the telly and no time to talk about a man who was no longer there. Part of me wanted to stop someone, all of them, and tell them it was me. I did it. I was the one. I wanted to scream it out because the way it was, it just didn’t work.
Revenge, even when served cold, doesn’t taste as sweet as you hoped. A sour taste left in my mouth and a deep-seated certainty of something missing. A hollow, aching lack of satisfaction.
Wanted to tell everyone, couldn’t tell anyone. That would have been sure to spoil it all. The best-laid plans
