The Child Who

‘Talk to your son, Steph, for Christ’s sake. Don’t just bloody sit there.’

Daniel’s mother did precisely that.

‘You saw what happened outside the court,’ Blake persisted. ‘They’ll tear him apart if he goes to prison. Ask your ex, Daniel’s father: ask him. He’s inside, he knows what it’s like. Daniel won’t last five minutes. They’ll rip him to pieces, even before they find out what he’s done.’

Stephanie, this time, choked back a sob.

‘Oh Christ. Here we go.’ Blake looked at Leo, as though expecting him to mirror his rolling eyes. ‘Power up the sprinklers: that’ll help. Sit there feeling sorry for yourself when it’s your son – your bloody son – who’s just confessed to murder, who’s gonna spend rest of his worthless life, probably, in some stinking, piss-stained—’

‘Mr Blake! That’s enough!’

At the sound of Leo’s raised voice, the guard outside the door framed his face in the security glass. When Leo raised a hand, he returned a frown – then reluctantly, it seemed, revolved away. Blake, meanwhile, had settled his snarl on Leo. He made a gun shape with his fingers and spoke down the barrel.

‘You listen to me, Curtice. This is my family, my business. You’re just the hired help. Do you get me?’

Twerp. Obnoxious, poisonous, vicious little twerp.

But: ‘I get you, Mr Blake.’ There was a hint of a challenge in Leo’s tone but he let it fade. ‘And I apologise for raising my voice. The purpose of this discussion is to lay down some options. That’s all. We do not need to make any decisions right away.’

With a snort, Daniel’s stepfather made plain what he thought of Leo’s options.

‘Also,’ Leo said, ‘I had hoped to clarify where things stand. From a procedural perspective, I mean.’ He turned to Stephanie. ‘A lot’s happened in the past few days and I thought… Well. I thought you would probably have some questions.’

Daniel’s mother, after a pause, gave a nod. She did not look up, however. She did not speak.

‘The remand hearing, for instance. The court visit. Did you understand the implications?’

Still Stephanie said nothing.

‘Daniel? Did you understand what it meant?’

Daniel, too, avoided Leo’s eye.

‘It meant he’s not getting out. Right? It means they’re keeping him locked up.’ Blake, as he spoke, seemed to smirk.

‘You’re to be transferred, Daniel,’ said Leo. ‘ To a… facility. A place like this but closer to home. You’ll be able to visit,’ Leo added, turning to the boy’s mother.

Stephanie swallowed. She took a breath, seemed to taste the words that were forming on her tongue. ‘What about…’ She cast a glance towards her son that did not quite reach. ‘What about bail? Is it not worth trying? I know you advised not to but… later, maybe? Will they… will they let Daniel come home?’

The boy made a sound, something between a murmur and a moan.

Leo nodded, in understanding rather than affirmation. ‘It would not, I think, be wise. Daniel’s well-being has to be the priority and he’ll be safest, I’m certain, where they’re taking him. Also,’ he added, ‘in view of the alleged offence, of the publicity surrounding the case… It is doubtful that an application would be granted, at any stage.’ More than doubtful: it was certain, though he did not say so.

‘The court visits,’ said Leo, shifting. ‘They will become a regular occurrence, I’m afraid – at least in the short term.’

Stephanie’s eyes drew wider and Leo raised a hand.

‘Things will settle down. There’ll not be the… trouble… there was last time. It’s just routine, I promise you. Part of the remand process, that’s all. And soon Daniel will be…’ committed, he was about to say ‘… referred to the Crown Court. He’ll be arraigned, formally, and depending on what plea we enter, the judge will set a trial date. For the autumn, I expect. Late summer at the earliest.’

‘That long?’ said Stephanie, her expression aggrieved once again. ‘Why so long?’

Leo made a face: there was nothing he could do. ‘We’ll push for sooner, naturally. It won’t be in anyone’s interests to drag this out.’

Daniel’s stepfather parked his hands on the surface of the table. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘A trial date, you said. As in, for a trial?’ He bent upright and jabbed a thumb towards his stepson. ‘He did it. He’s said he did it. What the hell do they need a trial for?’

Leo, for a moment, struggled with whether it should be necessary for him to answer. ‘ To present the case, Mr Blake. To allow us to mount our defence.’

Blake sniffed. ‘Sounds like a waste of money if you ask me: taxpayers’ money, my money. Sounds like a bloody publicity stunt too. They want a show trial, is that it? They want to string the boy up and make sure the newspapers are there to take pictures.’

‘Vince!’

‘Just tell them. Can’t you? He’s nuts, insane, Looney Tunes: whatever term you want to use. He did it but he didn’t mean it and he’s sorry. Case closed, just like you said.’

Leo was transfixed. He sensed Daniel squirming beside him. ‘That’s not what I…’ He shook his head. ‘Diminished responsibility. That’s the term, Mr Blake. And I can’t just tell them. The Crown, probably, will dispute any defence we present. If we argue for diminished responsibility, we would have to enter a plea of not guilty. And Daniel will need to be evaluated. He’ll need to talk to a psychiatrist and they, in turn, will—’

‘Wait a minute. You can stop right there. There’s no way Daniel’s talking to a shrink.’ Blake looked to his wife. Stephanie, at the prospect, seemed terrified, appalled – ashamed?

‘He would have to, Mr Blake. The psychiatrist’s findings would be the basis of the entire defence. Really, there’s no disgrace in it.’

‘I said, no.’ Again Blake turned to his wife and she gave a twitch of something like affirmation. ‘No means no, Curtice. End of discussion.’

‘With respect, Mr Blake, I’m afraid it’s not your decision to make. It would be up to Daniel.’

‘What? What are you talking about? I’m his stepfather. Steph’s his mother.’

‘And Daniel is my client. I work for him.’

Blake belched out a laugh. ‘He’s twelve years old!’

‘He is. You’re right. But he’s old enough to be charged with murder, which means the law considers him old enough to instruct his solicitor. If it is Daniel’s decision to plead not guilty, to argue for diminished responsibility, then the first step would be to—’

‘I’m not mental!’ The boy, all of a sudden, was on his feet. ‘I’m not and I’m not saying it!’ He slid behind his chair and backed away, dragging the seat with him as a ward. His eyes were blooded and his cheeks damp.

Blake saw Daniel’s hands on the chair and braced himself as though readying for it to swing. ‘What the hell do you think you’re… Put that down!’

‘Mr Blake, I don’t think…’ But Daniel had indeed raised the chair slightly, if only to keep his stepfather at bay. Blake lunged and ripped the chair from the boy’s grip. Daniel staggered backwards, into the corner of the room, sobbing now but snarling at his stepfather too.

‘Get away! Get away from me!’

Blake held the chair, posturing like some circus lion-tamer. ‘Calm down! Do you hear? Calm down or so help me I’ll…’ Blake glanced at his wife. He shifted the chair in his grip but did not seem at all sure about what it was, actually, that he might do.

‘Leave me alone!’ Daniel swiped at the tears in his eyes. He looked from Blake to his mother to Leo. ‘All of you!’

Daniel’s mother gave a wail.

‘Sit down, Daniel,’ said Leo. ‘Please.’ Like the others, he was now on his feet. It felt like there was something in his throat, squatting on his voice box and preventing him from swallowing. ‘Please,’ he said again and he held out a hand. The boy, in response, batted at the air.

‘Get off me! Don’t touch me!’

There was the sound of a latch and the door to the cell swung open. The guard appeared in the doorway and at the sight of him Daniel reared. He squealed and, as the man started to advance, backed himself further into