CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
On the following Tuesday morning, I caught a taxi to Adrian Calhoun's apartment in Coogee and knocked on the front door. His girlfriend, Rowena, opened it wearing a modest blue dress and solemn expression. "Hello, Brad, thanks for coming."
I gave her a kiss and a hug. "No problem."
"He's in the living room."
I followed her up the hallway to the large living room, where Adrian, wearing a well-cut grey suit, stood looking out over the Pacific Ocean. It was a gorgeous day: the sky was a perfect blue and the horizon razor sharp.
I said: "Hello, mate."
He turned and gave me a despairing look. I was not surprised. In about an hour, a District Court judge would send him to prison for many years. I had agreed to accompany him and Rowena to court.
He tried to smile. "Hello Brad."
I raised my eyebrows. "Ready?"
His smile finally arrived. "Definitely not." He looked back wistfully at the ocean. "You know, I bought this apartment for the view. Then I completely forgot about it. Now, all of a sudden, it looks beautiful again. But, I guess, that's not surprising."
"No."
The new Adrian seemed smaller than the man I had known for most of my life, but more grown up. It was too bad it took criminal charges to bring about that change.
He said: "Is it time to go?"
"Yup."
I had asked the taxi to wait downstairs. The three of us caught it to the Downing Court Complex and got out at the bottom of the front steps. About a dozen cameramen and photographers swarmed around us. Adrian and Rowena stared straight ahead as they climbed the steps, with me beside them. The reporters on the fringes didn't bother asking questions, because the matter was sub judice.
The cameramen and photographers were not allowed into the building. We passed through the glass entrance and they fell away.
We caught a lift to the second floor and found Frosty O'Toole of Senior Counsel, fully robed, and Sandy Westbrook waiting for us in a small interview room. Adrian's parents, Alex and Barbara, were with them. Barbara gave Adrian a big hug and broke into tears. Adrian controlled himself, just. Then he and Rowena stood with their backs against a wall, holding hands.
Frosty had a reddish face, short grey beard and pugnacious manner. He looked at Adrian. "How do you feel?"
"Like crap."
"That's understandable."
Frosty did not need to discuss the forthcoming hearing with Adrian. Adrian had already decided he would not offer to give evidence against Colin Douglas in return for a lesser sentence. He told me: "I'm not a dog; I'll accept what's coming to me." I was rather proud of him for his stance. However, as it turned out, his decency was irrelevant because, soon afterward, Colin also plead guilty. He would be sentenced in a few weeks' time.
Instead, Adrian asked his father to store some possessions while he was in prison and explained where to find them. Then, at 9.58 a.m., Frosty pushed away from a wall. "Alright then, let's go and see the judge."
Adrian gave his parents and Rowena desperate last hugs, before giving me one. Then Frosty led us all down a corridor into a functional pine-panelled courtroom. About fifty family members and friends sat in the gallery. Where, I wondered, were the hundreds of people who turned up to his birthday party a few months ago? Adrian's parents and Rowena sat in the front row, and I found a seat a couple of rows back.
The Prosecutor, Terry Rourke, was already at the bar table. I rather liked him. He was a tall and lean ex-Yank who claimed he once worked as a professional bounty hunter - which may have been true - and always wore cowboy boots. Frosty sat at the bar table, with Sandy and Adrian just behind him.
I had learnt from the Court's web page that Judge Harold Blissett was going to sentence Adrian. He entered through the door behind the bench and sat down. He was a large, dishevelled man whose wig looked home-made. But there was nothing dishevelled about his brain. He was a good lawyer who would hand out the right sentence.
The Court Officer announced the matter of R v Calhoun. Terry and Frosty rose and announced their appearances.
The judge looked at Frosty. "Mr O'Toole, is your client here?"
"Yes, your Honour."
"Please ask him to step into the dock."
Terry nodded to Adrian, who entered the dock and sat down.
The judge looked at Terry. "Mr Prosecutor, do you have an agreed statement of facts?"
Terry and Frosty had previously agreed upon a statement that summarised Adrian's crimes. Terry gave it to the Court Officer, who ferried it to the judge, who slowly read through it.
Prosecutors don't usually recommend the judge impose a specific sentence. Instead, they just outline the sentences handed down for similar offences.
After Terry had done that, the judge said: "Any antecedents?"
"None, your Honour."
Terry sat down, his day's work done.
Sandy Westbrook had collected a large number of character references from friends and work-mates of Adrian, including me. Many were high-fliers. Frosty got to his feet and gave a bundle of them to the judge.
It took the judge almost thirty minutes to read through them. Then Frosty solemnly read aloud the highlights and emphasised the prominence of the referees. He also noted Adrian's unblemished criminal record until now, his remorse, his early plea of guilty and the devastating impact the convictions would have on his career. He asked that any custodial sentence be served in a low-security prison.
Frosty sat down and the judge asked Adrian to rise, which Adrian did. The judge's sentencing remarks were much as I expected. He said Adrian was given great opportunities in life and acted out of greed not necessity; his crimes were clearly pre-meditated; and because insider trading offences were hard to detect, the punishment should be sufficient to deter others. However, he took into account the references and high likelihood of rehabilitation. He then imposed a seven-year sentence, with a four-year non-parole period. Mercifully, he recommended it be served in a low-security prison.
Adrian turned to his parents and Rowena with tears in his eyes and mouthed "Sorry". As two huge Sheriff's Officers calmly escorted Adrian through a side door to the holding cells, all three started crying. So did many in the Court, including me.
Frosty O'Toole looked at me and raised his eyebrows. We both knew that the sentence hit the sweet-spot and offered no grounds for appeal.
Family and friends started surrounding Adrian's parents and Rowena. I quickly gave them a hug and headed for the rear door.
On the way out, I was startled to see Patricia Ransome sitting stone-faced at the back of the courtroom. What on earth was she doing here? Then I remembered she was a good friend of Rowena. She must be here to provide support. At any other time, I would have seized the opportunity to say hello and tried to break down the barrier between us. But I was too immersed in someone else's problems, for once. Our eyes met and I kept moving.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I was depressed for about a week after Adrian was sentenced to prison. Then I drove down to Cooma and visited him at the low-security prison where he was sent. He had adjusted well to incarceration and, while we sat at an outside table eating sandwiches, showed a real interest in my life, for once.
I said: "You look more relaxed."
"That's because I don't have to worry anymore about what a judge will do to me; he's already done it." He grinned. "And I don't have to worry about where I'm going for a while. Now, I've just got to try and grow a little."
The next day, I arrived at chambers and found a large parcel sitting on my desk. I tore off the brown-paper wrapping and saw a folder containing a brief. The cover sheet said it was from Deacon & Co, the firm where Patricia Ransome was a partner. My God. I shakily opened the folder and glanced at the short letter of instructions. I was instructed to act for a client charged with drink-driving. The letter was signed: "Patricia Ransome."
I slumped into my chair and waited for my heart to cool down. It took a long time.
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br /> THE END
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