‘So when you threatened to piss in your wife’s rolled oats, was that just part of your normal loving communication with her?’
‘She doesn’t even eat rolled oats.’
‘She called you a monster, didn’t she?’
‘She didn’t mean it.’
Sasha persisted. ‘Calling you a monster was her reaction to your admission that you were guilty of murder, wasn’t it?’
‘As I said, the detective misheard or took that comment out of context.’
‘You’re a monster for a different reason then?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘I’m a hard but honest business man.’
‘So we can look forward to hearing from Mrs Thomas, can we?’ Sasha knew she couldn’t compel the woman to give evidence against her husband but it remained an option for the defence.
‘She’s highly stressed by the whole case. We’ve made a decision not to heap more stress on her by calling her as a witness.’
Sasha milked the lame response. ‘Indeed. It would be reasonable for any woman to be stressed living with a self-confessed murderer in the house?’
Fitzpatrick jumped from his seat. ‘Your Honour, that is too much, really it is.’
‘It’s time to move on from what Detective Woods overheard, Ms Stace,’ said Bowen.
Sasha gave the customary, ‘As Your Honour pleases’, then probed Thomas about his claimed visit to Dench on the day of the man’s death. He agreed no one saw him and he saw no one. Enumerating them as she went, she had him confirm that nine Crown witnesses were all mistaken, lying or exaggerating. When she was up to number five, she heard Fitzpatrick whisper from behind her, ‘I told him you’d do this.’ She turned and saw he was almost the colour of his shirt. ‘Not your fault, Finn,’ she whispered.
‘Anything I need to know, Ms Stace?’ Bowen asked politely.
‘Just concerned about my learned friend, Your Honour, but he’s okay.’
As Bowen looked past her, Fitzpatrick half rose and nodded.
Sasha continued, ‘So if you’re right and all the witnesses we’ve just discussed are wrong, we have an unknown killer on the loose, don’t we?’
‘It would seem so.’
‘And that unknown killer has stumbled upon a coincidence that your daughter has succinylcholine ingredients in your shed.’
‘Yes.’
‘And stumbled upon a coincidence that you have a 1965 Time magazine article detailing how sux was used in a murder in America?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t say that magazine was planted evidence, do you?’
‘No. I had the magazine for another reason but I hadn’t got around to throwing it out?’
‘Since 1965?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, not only do we have a list of witnesses who are lying or mistaken, but we have several coincidences that seem to implicate you as well?’
Thomas, his head down, said, ‘Yes, it’s indescribable how I feel about that.’
‘Would you look at the statement made by your daughter to police? Read the top of page two, please.’
Thomas’s s hand shook slightly as he held the sheet of paper and began to read. ‘I have been shown an inventory of items taken by police from the shed on my father’s property. I can confirm that all the chemicals including those that make up succinylcholine are mine. I brought them with me when I separated from my husband.’
Sasha smiled and waved her hand. ‘Please continue, Mr Thomas.’
‘The jar of liquid in the beer fridge was not mine. I had not seen that nor had I touched it. I never went into the shed and did not have a key to enter.’
Sasha asked, ‘My friend told the jury your daughter is to be called in your defence. Presumably you accept the truth of her statement?’
‘I believe she is mistaken about not having a key.’
Sasha pretended shock. ‘Oh dear. Can we now add a defence witness to the pile of those who are wrong?’
Thomas glared at Sasha. ‘When I went into the shed, it was unlocked. I was surprised. Later when Detective Black was at my house, I discovered I had two keys for the shed on the ring.’ Thomas shrugged. ‘But in other respects I accept what she says.’
‘So, you accept the jar of succinylcholine wasn’t hers and she hadn’t put it in your fridge?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘In fact, you heard evidence that yours were the only fingerprints on the jar?’
‘I heard that, but my prints are only on it because I lifted it out of the fridge.’
‘To put money in?’
‘Yes.’
‘So if you didn’t put it in, and your daughter didn’t put it in, someone else came onto your property and did so when the shed was unlocked. Is that your evidence?’
‘That’s the logical conclusion, yes.’
‘Planted it to incriminate you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’d accept, would you, that no one would have this interest if these men had committed suicide?’
Thomas hesitated. He knew Fitzpatrick was advancing the defence on two fronts: that the Crown couldn’t prove the men were murdered by anyone and that if they had been murdered, he hadn’t done it. He realised he’d been trapped.
Desperate, he looked at Fitzpatrick. ‘My learned friend can’t answer for you, Mr Thomas,’ said Sasha. ‘It’s not logical for anyone to be planting incriminating evidence against you if the deaths were suicide or accidental, is it?’
‘Unless Dench did it before he committed suicide to incriminate me.’
Sasha couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She saw Bowen frowning and quickly composed herself. ‘You can’t be serious, Mr Thomas?’
‘I don’t think that’s an impossibility, given our relationship.’ He looked at Fitzpatrick, who was hiding his face.
‘Very well. If anyone, including Mr Dench, had planted the sux, it required another coincidence, did it not? That the timing of the plant coincided with the timing of you leaving your shed unlocked. Yes?’
‘It seems that way.’
‘And you lied to the police about the money in the fridge, knowing their search was appropriate to a murder inquiry in which you’d been named?’
‘Regrettably, yes.’
‘What do you now say is the reason for that money being in your fridge?’
‘I’d started gambling again, and I didn’t want Michelle to know. I’d take some out, make bets, and put winnings back. The amount fluctuated, which is why I didn’t know exactly how much was there when I was first asked.’
‘And you understand DS Black found the money and the planted succinylcholine in the fridge together, don’t you?’
Fitzpatrick dropped his head. He knew what was coming.
‘I was there, I saw him.’ Thomas was agitated.
‘Indeed. You would have the jury believe that a murderer, intent on doing you harm by planting evidence in your fridge, had the fortuitous opportunity due to your carelessness?’
Thomas nodded with fervour. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what happened.’
Sasha looked at the jury. ‘Planted the sux and left your money untouched?’ She turned to face Thomas again, arms crossed. ‘Wanted to frame you for murder, but was still honest enough not to steal from you.’
‘I wish I knew everything. If I did, I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Isn’t it the truth that it wasn’t your money at all? That you stole that money from Dench’s apartment after you killed him?’
‘That’s rubbish. I killed no one.’
‘And after you killed Dench, you took that money back to your place in Dench’s briefcase with his fingerprints on it, but in the process, handled the child pornography found on Dench’s table.’
‘That’s rubbish.’
‘That’s the truth about how your prints came to be on his door and on that pornography as well, isn’t it. Not some lame excuse about poor discipline in the office.’
‘It’s all part of whoever i
s framing me.’
Bowen decided he’d take the afternoon adjournment. Thomas, forbidden to speak to anyone, sat slumped in a chair outside the witness box. Galbraith whispered to Sasha, ‘It’s all over.’
****
At 5.10 PM, Sasha had grilled Thomas thoroughly on the documents Tyler had drip fed to the public. Despite his denials, she was satisfied she’d painted a clear picture for the jury that gambling and child pornography were the real reason behind the secrecy of his loan. When she focused on the damaged computer, Thomas, as expected, denied destroying evidence of his purchases but Sasha extracted a confession that he’d acted in a rage. She had the energy to go on, but knew she should stop. She wanted the jury to see the man for what he was, not after he recovered overnight. Thomas was grey, the beads of sweat had turned into rivers and he looked like he’d been run over by a train. Despite a microphone, the court struggled to hear his final denial. Fitzpatrick, too, looked defeated.
As they packed up files and textbooks for the day Sasha was reluctant to accept her junior’s congratulations.
‘What is it?’ Galbraith asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Don’t you think that was all just a bit too easy for us, Ian?’
Chapter 42
In the morning Fitzpatrick was as jaunty as he had been on the first day. He took Christine Thomas through her statement, tried to get her to agree with her father’s evidence, but she was adamant: after storing the chemicals, she never went back into the shed.
Fitzpatrick said, ‘There’s been some suggestion by the police that your father attempted to arrange a false alibi for the night Mr Dench died. Has your father ever asked you to give him a false alibi in this case?’
‘No, he has not.’
Fitzpatrick decided to ram home the point. ‘To your knowledge, has he asked your mother to give him a false alibi?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Would you have known if he’d done that?’
‘Given Mum and I were out together, I think she’d have mentioned it.’
Fitzpatrick smiling said, ‘Of course. And has Trevor ever discussed succinylcholine with you?’
‘Yes.’
Sasha glanced at Bowen, who looked back at Sasha and then Fitzpatrick.
‘I’m sorry. I just need to clarify,’ said the Irishman. ‘Your father has never discussed succinylcholine with you, has he?’
She leant into the microphone. ‘I understood your question. Yes, he has.’ It was a confident reply. Sasha had seen this demeanour in Fowler’s trial and it concerned her all over again.
Thomas, his mouth open, looked stunned.
‘Your Honour, may I take a moment, please?’ asked Fitzpatrick. Bowen nodded.
‘What’s going on, Trev?’ he whispered when he got to the dock.
‘I’ve no bloody idea what the bitch is on about. It’s lies.’
‘But her other evidence has been somewhat helpful. Can’t you give me some idea of what this might be about?’
‘It’s bullshit, Finn.’
Fitzpatrick returned to his place. ‘When do you say he discussed succinylcholine with you?’
‘He first did so in 1966.’
‘You can’t be serious,’ roared Fitzpatrick. ‘How could you possibly remember this from nearly thirty years ago?’
‘It was the occasion of my eleventh birthday. I remember it well. He was showing me a copy of Time. There was an article about an American doctor who was charged with the murder of his wife when he’d been having an affair.’
Thomas leapt to his feet and screamed, ‘Why are you doing this to me? That’s an outrageous lie.’ The prison escorts pushed him back into his seat.
‘Your father has given evidence, on oath, that until this trial he’d never heard of succinylcholine. Are you sure you’re not mistaken on this point?’
‘Of course not. We had a second conversation about sux when I stacked succinic acid on the shelf. He said, “That’s the stuff that goes into succinylcholine, isn’t it.” He was correct, of course.’
Fitzpatrick had nowhere to go. He tried to show his own witness had malice toward her father, that she always took her mother’s side in marital disputes, that she resented the break-up of her own long-term marriage, that she regressed into childhood when she resumed living at home and resented not being able to afford her independence. Christine handled all these accusations with confidence and aplomb, the epitome of a credible witness.
****
Fitzpatrick asked to see the judge in chambers.
‘What’s on your mind, Finn?’ asked Bowen.
‘I’d like our agreement about not leading evidence on Tuck to be reviewed. It seems to me that it’s a case of all bets are off. We’ve been ambushed here.’
Sasha shook her head and frowned. ‘Well, not by us you haven’t. I’m sorry, Finn, but this was your doing. We never led that evidence. I don’t see how the Tuck situation helps you from here.’
Fitzpatrick focused on Bowen. ‘I know we called her, Judge, but she’s sprung a surprise on us all. If I can introduce evidence about Tuck, I can show Christine is malicious. I want to demonstrate it wasn’t just Tuck she was getting at, but also her father.’
Sasha looked at Fitzpatrick and frowned again as she replied, ‘Her tape recording of Tuck doesn’t demonstrate that. In the end, she made a statement at Tuck’s suggestion although she didn’t tell the lies she was asked to. In her evidence today, she’s stuck to her statement.’
Bowen nodded his agreement.
‘But she agreed to consider committing perjury,’ said Fitzpatrick, frustrated.
‘I take it you oppose, Sasha?’ asked Bowen.
‘Perjury to help her father if you recall, Finn.’ Sasha faced Bowen. ‘I can see the damage this surprise causes the defence.’ She paused and shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t have a strong view on the matter, Judge, but I don’t believe my friend’s argument justifies you reversing your pre-trial direction.’
Bowen looked for a minute at the rivers of rain running down the windows of his chambers. The two counsel sat in silence at his desk. Turning to face them, he said, ‘The evidence about Tuck will remain excluded. I’ll write up my direction for appeal if required.’
****
Sasha spoke for an hour in closing. She invited the jury to conclude that the context and background for the killings involved a potent mix of jealousy and revenge among men who’d embedded themselves in a life of child pornography.
She counted off all the coincidences with which she’d tortured Thomas in the witness box. She said the unassailable evidence of guilt was that three men, known or connected to Thomas, all died in much the same way without a struggle and within days of each other. The Crown didn’t have to prove Thomas’s extent of knowledge about succinylcholine but it was clear he had the method, opportunity and motive.
‘In the end while it may be helpful for you to understand why the accused has acted in particular ways, it’s not essential. It’s not your job to speculate why he didn’t do a better job of covering his tracks and then substitute your answers to that question as some proxy for reasonable doubt. The facts and legitimate inferences you can take from those facts, clearly show beyond reasonable doubt that the accused murdered three men. I ask you, on behalf of the Crown, to find him guilty. Thank you for your patience.’
Sasha smiled at the jury, a friendly, trust me smile and sat down. She’d minimised Thomas as a person, constantly referring to him as ‘the accused’ so that the jury lost any feelings of empathy for his predicament. Fitzpatrick would fix that, of course. Galbraith turned to his right and winked at her.
Fitzpatrick bounced to his feet as he faced the jury. ‘Forget about science and forensic evidence,’ he shouted. ‘Speculation is enough, surely. It doesn’t matter that no one can prove why puncture marks were in the deceased or how long they’d been there. It doesn’t matter there’s no suspicious toxicity in any of the deceased. It must have bee
n succinylcholine because that’s undetectable.’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘What kind of twisted logic is that?
‘The Crown says it’s been administered to make murders look like suicides. Would you put down a sick dog on this evidence? These deaths might be suspicious but that’s not enough. The suggestion Thomas murdered Apsley is simply obscene. The Crown can’t even prove Donaldson, much less Thomas, was present when Apsley died. It’s not your job to fill in the holes of the Crown’s case.’
He presented a range of theories he argued were more realistic than the Crown’s case. The history between Thomas and Dench didn’t make Trevor a murderer and he would be punished appropriately for his irrational acts. He poured scorn on Vickers’ evidence of plotting but saved his greatest vitriol for his own witness. ‘That woman flaunted her perjury in front of you, unable to hide the contempt she has for her loving father, the man who provides her food and shelter when she can’t survive on her own after her own marriage ends. Is she grateful? She can’t strike back at the husband who abandoned her, so she mauls and ravages the hand that feeds her.’
He argued a half decent police inquiry would have come up with a list of real suspects as long as a juror’s arm. ‘That’s not our job and it’s certainly not yours.’
He concluded, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I admit I’ve made mistakes in this trial, some worse than others. Poor attempts at humour, expecting Detective Sergeant Black to be objective, asking one too many questions of the viper in the Thomas nest before she struck unmercifully. You may well remember others. If you do nothing else, please don’t visit my mistakes upon Trevor Thomas.’
Fitzpatrick paused and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. He whispered, ‘He deserved better than me.’ Then, more loudly, he continued, ‘Forgive me my trespasses as I forgive those who have trespassed against me. I urge you not to judge Trevor Thomas as you have seen him in this trial.
‘Frightened, full of regret, burdened with remorse for not looking after a true mate. He admits he has a lot to redeem himself for, and in that, he’s undoubtedly correct. He’s not proud of all that he’s done and neither should he be. But ladies and gentlemen of the jury, his profanity, business jealousy and desire to put his nemesis out of business do not, I repeat, do not, make him a proven serial killer, beyond all reasonable doubt.’ Fitzpatrick then collapsed into his chair.