A Prisoner of Birth Read online

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘When you claim you heard the defendant say: “Then why don’t we go outside and sort it out?” ’

  ‘That is also correct.’

  ‘But isn’t it the truth, Mr Craig, that it was you who started this whole quarrel when you delivered another unforgettable remark to my client as he was leaving – ’ he glanced down at his notes – ‘ “When you’ve finished with her, my friends and I have just enough left over for a gang bang”?’ Redmayne waited for Craig to reply, but again he remained silent. ‘Can I assume from your failure to respond that I am correct?’

  ‘You can assume nothing of the sort, Mr Redmayne. I simply didn’t consider your question worthy of a response,’ replied Craig with disdain.

  ‘I do hope that you feel, Mr Craig, that my next question is worthy of a response, because I would suggest that when Mr Wilson told you that you were “full of shit”, it was you who said: “Then why don’t we go outside and sort it out?” ’

  ‘I think that sounds more like the kind of language one would expect from your client,’ responded Craig.

  ‘Or from a man who had had a little too much to drink and was showing off to his drunken friends in front of a beautiful woman?’

  ‘I must remind you once again, Mr Redmayne,’ interjected the judge, ‘that it is your client who is on trial in this case, not Mr Craig.’

  Redmayne gave a slight bow, but when he raised his eyes, he noticed that the jury was hanging on his every word. ‘I suggest, Mr Craig,’ he continued, ‘that you left by the front door and ran around to the back because you wanted a fight.’

  ‘I only went into the alley after I’d heard the scream.’

  ‘Was that when you picked up a knife from the end of the bar?’

  ‘I did no such thing,’ said Craig sharply. ‘Your client grabbed the knife when he was on his way out, as I made clear in my statement.’

  ‘Is that the statement you so carefully crafted when you couldn’t get to sleep later that night?’ asked Redmayne.

  Again, Craig didn’t respond.

  ‘Perhaps this is another example of something that’s unworthy of your consideration?’ Redmayne suggested. ‘Did any of your friends follow you out into the alley?’

  ‘No, they did not.’

  ‘So they didn’t witness the fight you had with Mr Cartwright?’

  ‘How could they, when I did not have a fight with Mr Cartwright.’

  ‘Did you get a Boxing Blue when you were at Cambridge, Mr Craig?’

  Craig hesitated. ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘And while at Cambridge, were you rusticated for—’

  ‘Is this relevant?’ demanded Mr Justice Sackville.

  ‘I am happy to leave that decision to the jury, m’lord,’ said Redmayne. Turning back to Craig, he continued, ‘Were you rusticated from Cambridge after being involved in a drunken brawl with some locals whom you later described to the magistrates as a “bunch of yobs”?’

  ‘That was years ago, when I was still an undergraduate.’

  ‘And were you, years later, on the night of September eighteenth 1999, picking another quarrel with another “bunch of yobs” when you resorted to using the knife you’d picked up from the bar?’

  ‘As I’ve already told you, it wasn’t me who picked up the knife, but I did witness your client stabbing Mr Wilson in the chest.’

  ‘And then you returned to the bar?’

  ‘Yes, I did, when I immediately called the emergency services.’

  ‘Let us try to be a little more accurate, shall we, Mr Craig. You didn’t actually call the emergency services. In fact, you phoned a detective sergeant Fuller on his mobile.’

  ‘That’s correct, Redmayne, but you seem to forget that I was reporting a crime, and was well aware that Fuller would alert the emergency services. Indeed, if you recall, the ambulance arrived before the detective sergeant.’

  ‘Some minutes before,’ emphasized Redmayne. ‘However, I’m curious to know how you were so conveniently in possession of a junior police officer’s mobile phone number.’

  ‘We had both been recently involved in a major drugs trial that required several lengthy consultations, sometimes at very short notice.’

  ‘So DS Fuller is a friend of yours.’

  ‘I hardly know the man,’ said Craig. ‘Our relationship is strictly professional.’

  ‘I suggest, Mr Craig, that you knew him well enough to phone and make sure that he heard your side of the story first.’

  ‘Fortunately, there are four other witnesses to verify my side of the story.’

  ‘And I look forward to cross-examining each one of your close friends, Mr Craig, as I’m curious to discover why, after you had returned to the bar, you advised them to go home.’

  ‘They had not witnessed your client stabbing Mr Wilson, and so were not involved in any way,’ said Craig. ‘And I also considered they might be in some danger if they stayed.’

  ‘But if anyone was in danger, Mr Craig, it would have been the only witness to the murder of Mr Wilson, so why didn’t you leave with your friends?’

  Craig once again remained silent and this time not because he considered the question unworthy of a reply.

  ‘Perhaps the real reason you told them to leave,’ said Redmayne, ‘was because you needed them out of the way so that you could run home and change out of your blood-covered clothes before the police turned up? After all, you only live, as you have admitted, “a hundred yards away”.’

  ‘You seem to have forgotten, Mr Redmayne, that Detective Sergeant Fuller arrived only a few minutes after the crime had been committed,’ responded Craig scornfully.

  ‘It was seven minutes after you phoned the detective sergeant that he arrived on the scene, and he then spent some considerable time questioning my client before he entered the bar.’

  ‘Do you imagine that I could afford to take such a risk when I knew the police could be turning up at any moment?’ Craig spat out.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ replied Redmayne, ‘if the alternative was to spend the rest of your life in prison.’

  A noisy buzz erupted around the court. The jurors’ eyes were now fixed on Spencer Craig, but once again he didn’t respond to Redmayne’s words. Redmayne waited for some time before adding, ‘Mr Craig, I repeat that I am looking forward to cross-examining your friends one by one.’ Turning to the judge, he said, ‘No more questions, m’lord.’

  ‘Mr Pearson?’ said the judge. ‘You will no doubt wish to re-examine this witness?’

  ‘Yes, m’lord,’ said Pearson. ‘There is one question I’m keen to have answered.’ He smiled at the witness. ‘Mr Craig, are you Superman?’

  Craig looked puzzled, but, aware that Pearson would be trying to assist him, replied, ‘No, sir. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because only Superman, having witnessed a murder, could have returned to the bar, briefed his friends, flown home, taken a shower, changed his clothes, flown back to the pub and been casually sitting at the bar by the time DS Fuller appeared.’ A few members of the jury tried to suppress smiles. ‘Or perhaps there was a convenient telephone box near at hand.’ The smiles turned to laughter. Pearson waited for them to die down before he added, ‘Allow me, Mr Craig, to dispense with Mr Redmayne’s fantasy world and ask you one serious question.’ It was Pearson’s turn to wait until every eye was concentrated on him. ‘When Scotland Yard’s forensic experts examined the murder weapon, was it your fingerprints they identified on the handle of the knife, or those of the defendant?’

  ‘They certainly weren’t mine,’ said Craig, ‘otherwise it would be me who was seated in the dock.’

  ‘No more questions, m’lord,’ said Pearson.

  4

  THE CELL DOOR opened and an officer handed Danny a plastic tray with several little compartments full of plastic food which he picked at while he waited for the afternoon session to begin.

  Alex Redmayne skipped lunch so he could read through his notes. Had he underes