Dillon’s breath escaped in a low whistle. “That’ll go down well in court.”
“Dobson realised he’d made a bit of a faux pas as soon as he’d opened his mouth,” Carol explained, “and he tried to brush over it but, by then, the damage had been done.”
“That’s why solicitors always tell idiots like him to go ‘no comment’,” Wilkins said. “Because every time they open their gobs, they drop themselves further into the shit.”
“How did the suspects react to seeing the CCTV from the lockup?” Dillon asked. “I would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall when that was played.”
“It didn’t go down very well,” Carol admitted with some satisfaction. “They were all shell shocked, to put it mildly. Dobson’s reaction was more extreme than any of the others. He completely lost the plot and tried to attack poor Colin Franklin.”
Jack looked up from the notes he had been making. “Is Colin okay?” he asked.
“Perfectly,” Carol said, smiling sweetly. “DC Stone prevented the attack by ramming Dobson’s face into the desk, which split his head open and left him in a crumpled heap. They had to take a lengthy break for the FME to examine Dobson, who refused to go back into interview afterwards.”
“I bet he did,” Dillon said, grinning widely.
“Please tell me the interview was videoed,” Steve Bull said in anticipation of being able to watch the former Para nullify Dobson.
“Afraid not,” Carol told him, “but Susie said that Dobson’s face was a right mess afterwards.”
“Couldnae have happened to a nicer bloke,” Charlie White said with a malicious grin.
Jack didn’t share their amusement. “I’m not having Dobson dictate to us whether he’s interviewed,” he announced, irritably. “Tell Susie to carry on, even if it means she has to set up portable equipment outside his cell and conduct the rest of the interview through the open wicket.”
“That’s exactly what she did do,” Carol Keating reassured him. “Dobson sat on the cot in his cell, facing the wall. Refused to speak a single word, but they put all the evidence to him and the interview has been satisfactorily concluded.”
“Good,” Jack said, somewhat mollified. “So, apart from Dobson’s admission, what other evidence have we got?”
“Well, I would say we have plenty,” Carol said. “The quality of the footage from the concealed camera in the lockup is very good. Reg Parker burned several copies onto VHS for the interview teams and he assures me that everyone’s faces are easily recognisable, so I’m convinced a jury will readily accept that it’s Dobson, Higgins, Roach, and Taylor. And just to make our lives slightly easier, the considerate little dears were only wearing T-shirts so a lot of their tattoos were visible. Naturally, we’ve had every tattoo on their bodies photographed while they’ve been in custody, so it won’t be too hard for the graphics department to put together a body mapping package to illustrate that the defendant’s tattoos correlate exactly to those of the people featured in the CCTV.”
As she spoke, Jack furiously scribbled notes in his daybook so he could update his Decision Log after the meeting.
“Then there are the witness statements,” Carol continued after he’d caught up. “You already know about Prudence, the girl who received the confession evidence from Roach. What you might not be aware of is that Anita, that’s the hooker who was found in the downstairs living room with Lola, was very forthcoming in interview.”
“I wondered if she might be,” Dillon said. “She gave the impression that she would have spoken to us at the scene if Lola hadn’t been there. What has she said?”
“She told her interviewers that the skinheads brought all the drugs with them. She admits to being a sex worker and claims that Lola’s the house Madame, having been installed by none other than Deontay Garston. She also told the interviewing officers that Dobson and Taylor – he’s the man she was shagging when the TSG burst in – had openly boasted about selling the guns that were used in the policeman’s murder. She said they seemed really proud to have done so.”
“Low life shite-bags,” Charlie White mumbled under his breath.
“Susie’s instinct is that if we NFA her, Anita can be persuaded to make a statement repeating what she said in interview,” Carol said.
Jack considered this. If they charged the girl with an offence, they wouldn’t be able to use any of what she’d said in her interview against another defendant, whereas if they took no further action against her, they would then be free to take a detailed witness statement from her. “What charges are we realistically looking at for her anyway?” he asked, struggling to concentrate. Although he’d managed to take a power nap in his office for an hour or so earlier in the day, it had been fitful and uncomfortable, and he was now so tired that he could hardly think straight.
“She was arrested for the collective possession of drugs, along with everyone else, just because she was in the room and no one was putting their hands up to owning them,” Carol said. “Nothing worth getting worked up about.”
“NFA her then,” Tyler said. “She’s small fry. I’m happy the drugs will either have been laid on by the skinheads or Lola, and she’s far more useful to us as a witness.”
Carol made a quick note. “That’s my view, too. If you don’t mind, I’ll pop out and let Susie know straight away, so she can grab a statement from the girl before she changes her mind.” Excusing herself, Carol left the room to make the call.
Closing his eyes, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. He had taken some paracetamol before the meeting but it was doing little to dull the throbbing ache in his head. Maybe he needed to drink some water to rehydrate himself as he’d been
