– and I still do, unless you can provide me with fresh information.’
Lethbridge almost fell over himself in his haste to dissociate himself from any criticism of the coroner’s decision.
‘Of course, sir, it was most understandable that this was considered the right course of action given the information available at that time,’ he brayed. ‘But some further investigations undertaken on behalf of a client, who claims that the remains were that of her relative, has since cast doubt on the identification as that of Albert Barnes.’
He peered over his glasses at Trevor Mitchell and suggested that he take up the tale. The detective described first how he had some doubts about the dating of the wedding ring and the Omega watch, especially as Mrs Barnes’s claim that her husband had obtained the watch during his wartime service in Germany could not be true, as the watch had not been made until 1950 at the earliest.
Brian Meredith had some objections to these disclosures.
‘I admit those facts are odd, but I can’t accept them as sufficiently relevant,’ he said mildly, but decisively. ‘The ring might genuinely have been much older than the date of their wedding, if it was second-hand, as she claimed. And though the husband may not have obtained the watch in the way he said, there are many things that a man fails to tell his wife. He might have won it in a game of poker – or even stolen it!’
Mitchell was too old a campaigner in the witness box to be thrown by such legitimate criticisms.
‘That’s very true, sir, but they raised my threshold of suspicion. I then found from further enquiries that Mr Barnes had been in hospital for injuries sustained several years earlier, which his wife failed to disclose to you. We obtained a view of his medical notes – with Mrs Barnes’s consent, I might add – and found that he had been X- rayed, which I understand might have been conclusive evidence of identity had they been available when the remains were examined.’
Meredith already knew the general thrust of the new argument, because he had given a note to Richard Pryor to authorize the doctor in Frenchay to clarify his notes, but he was not yet aware of the details of the result.
‘Perhaps this is now more within Dr Pryor’s field of expertise to explain,’ cut in Edward Lethbridge.
Angela winked at him as her partner leaned forward to speak. This was not the Old Bailey, she thought, but let’s see how he performs. Some of her forensic colleagues, experts though they might be, were hopeless witnesses, humming and hawing and mumbling technicalities without any attempt at making them understandable to judge or jury.
‘Put simply, Coroner, the clinical examination of Albert Barnes in Hereford County Hospital seven years ago, recorded a harmless anatomical abnormality, which according to Dr Marek here, was not present in the bones he examined.’
Top marks, Richard, thought Angela. Short and sweet!
The coroner’s fair eyebrows rose on his cherubic face.
‘Indeed! What exactly was this abnormality?’ he asked.
‘The hospital notes recorded a
The coroner shifted his gaze to the Polish pathologist.
‘What do you say to this, Doctor Marek? You are the only one who actually had the opportunity to examine these remains.’
The big man from Hereford shifted uneasily. He was not sure whether his professional skills were being called into question.
‘It is unfortunate that these notes and especially any X-rays were not available when I did my examination,’ he rumbled. ‘But as far as the sternum is concerned, I am almost certain that there was no depression. I am familiar with
‘How sure are you, Doctor?’ asked Meredith. He suddenly had assumed a penetrating manner, at odds with his usual benign nature.
Bogdan Marek backtracked a little.
‘I’m very sure, sir. Of course, there are different grades of depressed sternum, but if it had been marked enough for a junior doctor to have recorded it, I feel sure I would have recognized it.’ His accent was more pronounced as he spoke with extra emphasis.
There was a heavy silence as they waited for the coroner to digest what had been said.
‘So where does this leave us, Mr Lethbridge?’ he asked at last. ‘I suspect you are going to make an application to me?’
The lawyer cleared his throat. ‘In order to at least clear the way for my client’s pursuance of her own claim, I submit that the new evidence is sufficient for you to reopen your earlier inquest, the verdict of which was left open and to annul the stated identification of the remains as that of Albert Barnes.’
Brian Meredith shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I don’t think I can do that on the sole evidence of the recollection of Dr Marek, Mr Lethbridge. With the greatest respect to Dr Marek, the consequences of rescinding an already- certified death are profound, not least in the bureaucratic processes involved, as well as the distress caused to the putative relatives.’
Lethbridge nodded, not at all surprised at the rejection of his first attempt. He fiddled with the papers in front of him before offering a second course of action.
‘If you feel unable to do that at this stage, sir, then I would respectfully request you to consider applying for the exhumation of the remains so that a definitive answer be obtained.’
The coroner took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his cheeks puffing out in a gesture midway between resignation and exasperation.
‘I suspected it would come to this,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘The thought of doing battle with the grinding machinery of the Home Office frankly appals me! Are you sure that re-examining the bones will give us the final answer, Doctor Pryor?’
Richard nodded confidently. ‘No doubt about it, sir. As well as settling the issue of the sternum, the fact that we can get the X-rays from Hereford will clinch it.’
‘What films did they take, then?’ asked the medically qualified coroner.
‘I understand that they are of the skull, pelvis and leg.’
‘There was no head, so the skull films will not help,’ growled Dr Marek, fighting a final rearguard action.
‘We can X-ray the remains and compare the internal structure of the major limb bones in the two sets of films,’ said Pryor decisively.
Angela Bray spoke for the first time. Justifying her attendance at the meeting. ‘And I can determine the blood group. There are sure to be records of Barnes’s group either from the hospital or from his Army records.’
The coroner resignedly closed the file in front of him.
‘And you are absolutely sure that this will be a hundred per cent reliable?’ he asked Richard Pryor.
The pathologist nodded confidently.
‘I won’t be able to tell you who he is, Coroner – but I’ll certainly be able to tell you who he isn’t!’
Moira was busy typing up some of Angela’s paternity test reports when the two principals returned from Monmouth and she stopped to listen to their news. Sian hurried in from the laboratory just in time to catch Richard announcing that the coroner had agreed to an exhumation.
‘Can you just walk into a churchyard with a shovel and dig someone up?’ asked Sian rather indignantly. She had strong views on human rights and social justice, coming from a strong Labour-voting family.
‘Good God, no!’ responded Richard. ‘It’s a hell of a performance and is not always granted.’
‘But if the coroner says it must be done, isn’t that sufficient?’ asked Angela, who was perched elegantly on the edge of the desk.
Pryor shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I have an idea that if the coroner still had jurisdiction, he could order an exhumation off his own bat, though even then, I seem to recall that he always plays safe and goes through the Home Office, which is the usual route in seeking consent.’
Moira Davison listened with interest to these discussions; she was finding every day more fascinating as bits of the forensic world were opened up to her.
‘But how can he
