A Prisoner Of Birth

Craig turned to face the jury for the first time. 'We were, as I said, enjoying a glass of wine in celebration of Gerald's birthday, when I became aware of raised voices. I turned and saw a man, who was seated at a table in the far corner of the room with a young lady.'

'Do you see that man in the courtroom now?' asked Pearson.

'Yes,' replied Craig, pointing in the direction of the dock.

'What happened next?'

'He immediately jumped up,' continued Craig, 'and began shouting and jabbing his finger at another man, who remained seated. I heard one of them say: 'If you think I'm gonna call you guv when you take over from my old man, you can forget it.' The young lady was trying to calm him down. I was about to turn back to my friends-after all, the quarrel was nothing to do with me-when the defendant shouted, 'Then why don't we go outside and sort it out?' I assumed they were joking, but then the man who had spoken the words grabbed a knife from the end of the bar-'

'Let me stop you there, Mr. Craig. You saw the defendant pick up a knife from the bar?' asked Pearson.

'Yes, I did.'

'And then what happened?'

'He marched off in the direction of the back door, which surprised me.'

'Why did it surprise you?'

'Because the Dunlop Arms is my local, and I had never seen the man before.'

'I'm not sure I'm following you, Mr. Craig,' said Pearson, who was following his every word.

'The rear exit is out of sight if you're sitting in that corner of the room, but he seemed to know exactly where he was going.'

'Ah, I understand,' said Pearson. 'Please continue.'

'A moment later the other man got up and chased after the defendant, with the young lady following close behind. I wouldn't have given the matter another thought, but moments later we all heard a scream.'

'A scream?' repeated Pearson. 'What kind of scream?'

'A high-pitched, woman's scream,' replied Craig.

'And what did you do?'

'I immediately left my friends and ran into the alley in case the woman was in any danger.'

'And was she?'

'No, sir. She was screaming at the defendant, begging him to stop.'

'Stop what?' asked Pearson.

'Attacking the other man.'

'They were fighting?'

'Yes, sir. The man I'd earlier seen jabbing a finger and shouting now had the other chap pinned up against the wall, with his forearm pressed against his throat.' Craig turned to the jury and raised his left arm to demonstrate the position.

'And was Mr. Wilson trying to defend himself?' asked Pearson.

'As best he could, but the defendant was thrusting a knife into the man's chest, again and again.'

'What did you do next?' asked Pearson quietly.

'I phoned the emergency services, and they assured me that they would send police and an ambulance immediately.'

'Did they say anything else?' asked Pearson, looking down at his notes.

'Yes,' replied Craig. 'They told me under no circumstances to approach the man with the knife, but to return to the bar and wait until the police arrived.' He paused. 'I carried out those instructions to the letter.'

'How did your friends react when you went back into the bar and told them what you had seen?'

'They wanted to go outside and see if they could help, but I told them what the police had advised and that I also thought it might be wise in the circumstances for them to go home.'

'In the circumstances?'

'I was the only person who had witnessed the whole incident and I didn't want them to be in any danger should the man with the knife return to the bar.'

'Very commendable,' said Pearson.

The judge frowned at the prosecuting counsel. Alex Redmayne continued to take notes.

'How long did you have to wait before the police arrived?'

'It was only a matter of moments before I heard a siren, and a few minutes later a plain-clothes detective entered the bar through the back door. He produced his badge and introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Fuller. He informed me that the victim was on his way to the nearest hospital.'

'What happened next?'

'I made a full statement, and then DS Fuller told me I could go home.'

'And did you?'

'Yes, I returned to my house, which is only about a hundred yards from the Dunlop Arms, and went to bed, but I couldn't sleep.'

Alex Redmayne wrote down the words: about a hundred yards.

'Understandably,' said Pearson.

The judge frowned a second time.

'So I got up, went to my study and wrote down everything that had taken place earlier that evening.'

'Why did you do that, Mr. Craig, when you had already given a statement to the police?'

'My experience of standing where you are, Mr. Pearson, has made me aware that evidence presented in the witness box is often patchy, even inaccurate, by the time a trial takes place several months after a crime has been committed.'

'Quite so,' said Pearson, turning another page of his file. 'When did you learn that Daniel Cartwright had been charged with the murder of Bernard Wilson?'

'I read the details in the Evening Standard the following Monday. It reported that Mr. Wilson had died on his way to Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, and that Cartwright had been charged with his murder.'

'And did you regard that as the end of the matter, as far as your personal involvement was concerned?'

'Yes, although I knew that I would be called as a witness in any forthcoming trial, should Cartwright decide to plead not guilty.'

'But then there was a twist that even you, with all your experience of hardened criminals, could not have anticipated.'

'There certainly was,' responded Craig. 'Two police officers visited my chambers the following afternoon to conduct a second interview.'

'But you had already given verbal and written statements to DS Fuller,' said Pearson. 'Why did they need to interview you again?'

'Because Cartwright was now accusing me of killing Mr. Wilson, and was even claiming that I had picked up the knife from the bar.'

'Had you ever come across Mr. Cartwright or Mr. Wilson before that night?'

'No, sir,' replied Craig truthfully.

'Thank you, Mr. Craig.'

The two men smiled at each other before Pearson turned to the judge and said, 'No more questions, m'lord.'

CHAPTER THREE

MR. JUSTICE SACKVILLE turned his attention to the counsel at the other end of the bench. He was well acquainted with Alex Redmayne's distinguished father, who had recently retired as a high court judge, but his son had never appeared before him.

'Mr. Redmayne,' intoned the judge, 'do you wish to cross-examine this witness?'