I knew exactly where and when the accident had taken place,and where to find Tompkins during the evening. This was further evidence thathad come out at the trial, but to make sure, I had tracked him down already toensure there would be no case of mistaken identity.
The information I had was that he had driven his car to apub a couple of miles from Oxford city centre and had parked it in their carpark at around teatime that afternoon.
I hadn’t seen the car before: for whatever reason it hadn’tbeen parked at his house when I went to check him out, but I knew what I waslooking for.
I drove to the car park myself and sat in my car and waited.It was dark by the time he arrived, around 4.30pm, but I still spotted the carinstantly under the street lights, a beaten-up old red Nova with a 1993registration plate.
He parked in a space almost directly opposite me, got outand headed into the pub. I decided to follow. I wanted to find out for myselfwhat my wife’s killer was like.
At his trial he’d painted a picture of a family man who’dmade a single terrible mistake. I knew that he was married with two kids, so ifhe really was the family man he claimed, why would he be driving to the pub atthis time on a Friday afternoon?
Surely most fathers would be looking forward to spendingsome time with their kids at the end of the working week, wouldn’t they?
It wasn’t as if he was even attending a work Christmas party:he just seemed to be on his own, at least at first. I walked into the pub,ordered myself a soft drink and watched to see what he did.
It was busy in the pub, full of people who had just finishedwork for the Christmas break, and the place was full of festive cheer.
After about ten minutes he was already three-quarters of theway down his first pint of lager, having been standing playing a fruit machineon his own. Cash exhausted, he thumped the buttons on the front of the machine,swore at it, and headed across to a pool table in the corner where a group ofyoung men were playing.
He chalked his name up on a blackboard which read “Winnerstays on” and started joining in the banter with the others.
By 8pm, he was on his fifth pint and it was still over threehours until the fateful moment of the accident. It was time for me to head outinto the car park and put the next part of my plan into operation.
It was my intention to phone the police and report him fordrinking and driving, but I couldn’t be sure that it would be enough to stophim. What if the police didn’t come? It was one of their busiest nights of theyear after all, commonly known as “Mad Friday”. Town would be full of peoplewho didn’t normally drink, overdoing it and getting out of control.
The increasingly cash-strapped police forces were going tofind their resources highly stretched tonight. So for good measure, I went andlet down one of his tyres, the nearside rear. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice andwould still get in the car.
I would need him to do this if the police were to be able toarrest him. A flat tyre would also delay him from getting away, giving Sarahample time to make it over the zebra crossing safely.
Had I done enough, though? What if the police didn’t comeand he decided to change the wheel and drive off? He might end up killing someoneelse. I couldn’t imagine he’d be up to changing a wheel in his inebriatedstate, but anything was possible.
What if he decided not to drive home and left the carbehind? That would solve the problem for tonight, but what about in the future?It was all very noble of me, saving Sarah’s life, but if he got away scot-freeI’d only be saving up his lethal combination of booze and car for anothernight.
Worst of all, he might be so drunk he wouldn’t even noticethe tyre was flat, turning the car into an even more lethal weapon than italready was. I had a plan C in mind if neither the police nor the flat tyrestopped him, but it was very much a last resort.
I needed him to get caught by the police one way or another,as the man had to be punished for the crime he was yet to commit.
The timing of my call was crucial. The accident had occurredat 11.22pm. If I rang the police too early they would get here, find that hewas still in the pub and leave again, as no crime had been committed. Too late,and he would already have left.
It was reminiscent of the time that I’d deliberated aboutwhat time to call the fire brigade about the fire at the furniture store.Timing was crucial. I decided I would make the call at precisely 11pm.
The time seemed to crawl by as I sat in my car. At half pastten I decided to go back into the pub and find out what was happening. It wasabsolutely packed and very noisy. A fat, middle-aged man in an Animal T-shirtwas running a disco in the corner and the music was deafening.
It took some time to fight my way through to the other endof the pub where the pool table was. Tompkins was still there, and engaged in aheated argument with another man over whose turn it was next. As I watched, hebrandished the pool cue at the man who wisely backed down.
I had no idea how much he’d had to drink but he was swayingand slopping his pint all over the place. I’d seen enough. All those crocodiletears I’d seen him put on at his trial were an absolute farce. The man was adrunk and a bully.
“Family
