that was beside the point. And so he fidgeted. He cleared his throat, for the fourth or fifth time it felt like – even though it was Dale he was willing to speak.
‘What about his IQ?’ the barrister said at last.
‘Ninety. He was tested last week.’
Dale responded by twisting his lips. Low, he did not have to say – but not low enough.
‘And the psychiatrist…’
‘Karen.’
‘Karen. She doesn’t feel there’s anything compelling we might use?’
The ‘we’ was reassuring, until Leo considered the context.
‘Nothing obvious. He’s of sound mind, capable of rational judgement. He knows right from wrong. He has post-traumatic stress disorder but no sign of anything underlying. She has her concerns, though.’
Dale raised an eyebrow but Leo could only disappoint.
‘They’re just concerns,’ he said. ‘Nothing concrete. He’s clearly damaged in some way but… Well. We knew that already.’
Dale clicked his pen again: a double beat, followed by another, and then another in a metronomic rhythm. ‘You could use someone else, you know.’ He held still as he spoke, as though wary of Leo’s reaction. ‘Assuming Karen left us room for manoeuvre in her report, we could always find someone who would be more… sympathetic.’
Leo shifted. He had considered it, of course he had. But, ‘He’s on legal aid. We wouldn’t get the funding. And it was hard enough convincing him to see Karen in the first place, let alone someone new.’ Again Leo shuffled in his seat. ‘Besides. This is about doing what’s right for the boy. It’s not about fabricating a lie.’
‘No one’s suggesting we lie, Leo. But truth, in this field, is hardly absolute.’
‘Of course not. But there’s the matter of consensus. And I trust Karen’s judgement. She’s not wrong. She was never wrong. For every expert we find who disagrees with her findings, the Crown will find ten who concur.’
Dale shrugged an eyebrow. There was quiet for a moment.
‘Let’s go back to the victim.’ Dale moved his weight to the opposite armrest, set his legs at a different angle. ‘What was the boy’s connection with her?’
‘They went to the same school. They lived in the same city.’
‘That’s it?’
‘It seems to be. The first time I spoke to Daniel, he could barely recall her name.’
‘She didn’t bully him? Taunt him? She didn’t provoke him in any way?’
‘Not that anyone has suggested. Not even Daniel. And to be honest, she didn’t seem the type.’ An image of Felicity’s hands, bloodless and bound in fairy lights, flickered in Leo’s mind. ‘She was in the wrong place,’ he said, forcing himself to focus on Dale. ‘At the wrong time. Or Daniel was: physically, mentally.’
‘So provocation, self-defence… ?’
Leo shook his head.
‘And he’s not an alcoholic? A drug addict? He wasn’t drunk or anything at the time?’
‘He’s twelve years old, Dale.’
Again Dale twitched his eyebrows. ‘You’d be surprised.’ He frowned at his leather-bound notepad. His pen, between his fingers, seemed to whirl of its own accord. Leo watched it spin, grateful on the one hand that a man with such dexterity was on his side; terrified, on the other, that having Dale as an ally might not make the slightest bit of difference.
‘I think you’re right,’ Dale said. ‘Diminished responsibility, if Daniel decides to plead not guilty, would be about his only option.’
Leo tensed. He sensed a but.
‘But, with the evidence we have, I just don’t see how we could make the case.’
The ‘we’, now, seemed generous. A consolation, that was all. Leo waited for something more.
‘When’s the arraignment?’ said Dale, after a pause. ‘A month, you said?’
‘Just over.’
‘And your client. Daniel. He’s insisting on this, regardless of your advice?’
Leo had been waiting for this. Waiting – but not ready. ‘He’s not insisting on anything in particular.’
The pen in Dale’s hand came to a stop.
‘He trusts me.’ Leo spoke to the table but realised as he uttered the words that they yielded a certain pride. He looked up. ‘Daniel’s instructed me to do what I think is best.’ He paused but the silence that followed felt like a condemnation. ‘He’s a boy, Dale. How can he be expected to understand the complexities of—’
Dale nodded, held up a hand. ‘What about the boy’s parents? What do they say?’
‘They seemed in favour of diminished responsibility until they realised what it would involve. Now they think Daniel should plead guilty. Throw himself on the mercy of the court.’ Tell them Daniel did it and say he’s sorry – isn’t that how Blake had put it? As though sorry was the magic word; as though uttering it would be enough to salvage a future for his stepson.
‘The boy has a record. Doesn’t he?’
‘He does but the infractions are minor. Just kid stuff, really, and some time ago. They might even help us. Mightn’t they? If we paint them as cries for help. Like his school record. Couldn’t we use that too?’
Dale gave Leo a weary smile. ‘You don’t believe that, Leo.’
And it was true. Leo did not.
‘What about the schools?’ Dale said. ‘Daniel’s teachers? Might their testimony help us in any way?’
Leo thought of Ms Bridgwater, Daniel’s former – and Ellie’s current – head teacher. He thought of the younger teacher Daniel had attacked. ‘What could they say?’
Dale considered. He shook his head. ‘You’re right. It would hardly matter.’
Leo straightened. ‘There’s plenty to show Daniel was troubled. His father’s in prison, walked out on the family when Daniel was eight. And Daniel must have been to, what? Four? Five schools in the past three years? All his life he’s been shunted from one place to the next. He needed help but he was never offered any. I mean, he’s not stupid, his IQ tells us that, but he’s a year behind where he should be.’
‘They kept him down a year?’
Leo nodded. ‘And he’s bottom of his current class too.’
‘Any learning difficulties?’
‘None that have been diagnosed. One of the schools made a tentative diagnosis of hyperactivity. If you ask me, though, it was just a guess. A dismissal, rather. The only label that seems to have stuck is that Daniel was a troublemaker. A “low achiever” – isn’t that the term they use?’
‘What about social services? Was he on any lists?’
‘Not at the time. There was an investigation when he was a toddler because he kept showing up in A & E. It didn’t come to anything, though. Accident prone, was the verdict. One of those kids who’d find a knife in a drawer full of spoons.’
Dale resumed his pen spinning. He nodded his head as though to a beat. ‘Useful background,’ he muttered. Leo could not quite tell if he was talking to himself or offering some half-hearted encouragement. Either way, background would not be enough. Leo felt his posture deflate. He looked at his hands and, glancing up, realised that Dale was watching him. The barrister, caught, looked away. Then he set down his pen and tested the air with a cough.
‘Have you considered,’ he said, ‘mitigation?’
Leo felt his expression harden.
‘There’s no reason you can’t make the argument you’re making now in the pre-sentence report,’ said Dale. ‘Plus, if he pleads guilty, Daniel could benefit from a reduction in his tally.’
Leo was shaking his head. ‘But then he’s guilty. It’s not just about the sentence, Dale. If he’s guilty, he’s guilty for the rest of his life: on registers, databases, lists. And anyway, there’s no guarantee that he’ll be any better off. Not given the attention on the case.’
‘Possibly not. But it seems to me it’s the boy’s best option. I mean, his parents… Something tells me you don’t think much of them but… well… they might, in this case, be right.’
‘It’s not right. How can it be right? Someone needs to consider why. Don’t they? Whoever judges him needs
