Naked Justice Page 4

  (FRED sighs with resignation and goes. ELSPETH, wearing her judge’s wig and gown, stays in the downstage pool of light.)

  ELSPETH: Family life! Family life is an enigma to those of us who deal with matrimonial cases. It’s an enigma wrapped in a mystery. This husband who enjoyed sitting in cake for instance. A middle-of-the-road middle manager of a company selling world religions on the Internet. Godseekers Dot Com. Attractive wife, two intelligent children at church schools loaded with GCSEs. Mortgage almost paid off. Well, when his wife asked him how he got on with his psychiatrist he said, ‘Wonderful. She sits on cake far more prettily than you do.’ All the same, they seem to be still determined to save the marriage. His wife’s prepared to sit on cake for the sake of the children. Well. That’s family life at its most horrific. Can you wonder that, as far as I’m concerned, I want nothing to do with it!

  (ELSPETH goes.)

  (Light upstage, where the furniture now acts as a courtroom where KEITH is sitting as the Judge. CASSANDRA and DAWLISH, both in wigs and gowns, are on opposite sides. SWIVER is with CASSANDRA. BYRON is downstage, sitting with his back to the audience in what represents a dock. INSPECTOR DACRE is standing, being examined by DAWLISH. The jury is the audience.)

  DAWLISH: Detective Inspector Dacre. You and Detective Sergeant Brian arrested young Byron Johnson. Did you travel with him in the car to the station…?

  DACRE: I did, my Lord.

  DAWLISH: How long did the journey take?

  DACRE: About fifteen minutes, my Lord. There were road works.

  DAWLISH: Did he start talking…?

  CASSANDRA: (Sitting.) Before he was cautioned…

  KEITH: Miss Cresswell.

  CASSANDRA: (Rising.) Yes, my Lord.

  (DAWLISH sits.)

  KEITH: If you wish to make an objection, it’s customary to do it standing, and in a clear voice.

  CASSANDRA: I understand that, my Lord.

  KEITH: Good! I’m glad you do. Now. What was it you wished to say?

  CASSANDRA: I wish to say… I object to evidence of what my client said before a caution.

  KEITH: I’m sure Mr Marston Dawlish, with his considerable experience of these matters, has that well in mind. Yes, Mr Marston Dawlish…

  DAWLISH: (Rising.) Thank you, my Lord. Detective Inspector, when, if ever, did you caution the defendant?

  DACRE: On his arrest, my Lord.

  KEITH: On his arrest. Yes. That is exactly what I would have expected.

  (CASSANDRA sits, says in an audible whisper to SWIVER.)

  CASSANDRA: Bastard!

  DAWLISH: And in the car…

  DACRE: He told us that he’d gone to Jubilee Road to

  see the dead man, Winston Jardine. He said they quarrelled.

  DAWLISH: Did he say what they quarrelled about?

  DACRE: I understood that the defendant resented Jardine’s staying at the restaurant with his mother.

  DAWLISH: Did he tell you how the quarrel ended?

  DACRE: He said he lost his temper and stabbed Winston Jardine with a knife, my Lord.

  KEITH: A knife he had brought with him?

  DACRE: Yes, my Lord.

  DAWLISH: Inspector. When you reached the station, did you and DS Brian make a note of that conversation?

  DACRE: We did, my Lord.

  DAWLISH: And in the presence of the station officer, was that note read over to Byron Johnson?

  DACRE: We gave it to him and he read it himself.

  DAWLISH: And did he sign it?

  DACRE: He did, my Lord.

  DAWLISH: And is that the statement?

  DACRE: It is, my Lord.

  DAWLISH: My Lord. I have no further questions. (He sits.)

  KEITH: Miss Cresswell. Have you any questions for this officer?

  CASSANDRA: (Rising.) I certainly have, my Lord. (To DACRE.) Are you honestly telling us that Byron Johnson, as soon as he got into the car, poured out his heart to you two police officers?

  KEITH: By ‘pouring out his heart’, I take it you mean confessing his guilt, Miss Cresswell?

  CASSANDRA: Whatever you call it. Are you telling

  this jury that a young black boy would have such a touching trust in this town’s police force as to start talking immediately…?

  DACRE: He had no reason not to trust us.

  CASSANDRA: Inspector Dacre. Do you honestly mean that…?

  KEITH: Presumably he does, Miss Cresswell. Or he wouldn’t have said it.

  CASSANDRA: Inspector Dacre. Will you tell the jury how many complaints have been made, during the last year, of racist behaviour by the local police?

  DACRE: There are always a large number of complaints against the police, my Lord.

  KEITH: (A wintry smile at the jury.) There are always a large number of complaints against judges, too.

  (DAWLISH laughs heartily. Sound of laughter offstage.)

  Have you any relevant questions, Miss Cresswell?

  CASSANDRA: Certainly, my Lord. Detective Inspector, were you in charge of the case which led to the arrest of Joseph Perkin?

  KEITH: Did you say Parkin?

  CASSANDRA: Perkin, my Lord.

  DACRE: I was in overall charge, yes.

  CASSANDRA: Was he assaulted by the officers who arrested him?

  DACRE: That was his complaint.

  CASSANDRA: Quite a successful complaint, wasn’t it? Did he bring an action and receive twenty thousand pounds’ damages for false imprisonment against the police?

  DACRE: I believe the case was settled, my Lord.

  CASSANDRA: You mean, the police gave in and agreed to pay twenty thousand…?

  DAWLISH: (Rising wearily.) My Lord. You asked if my learned friend had any relevant questions…

  KEITH: Yes. Miss Cresswell. I take it you are about to suggest that your client was in some way assaulted by these two police officers?

  CASSANDRA: No, my Lord.

  KEITH: (Raises his eyebrows.) You are not…? Then what on earth’s the relevance of this Perkins…?

  CASSANDRA: Perkin, my Lord. The relevance of it is that, knowing the reputation of the police among the Black Community, Byron would have been highly unlikely to confide in them as soon as he got into the car.

  KEITH: (Weary again.) Is that your best point, Miss Cresswell?

  CASSANDRA: Not quite, my Lord…

  KEITH: Then perhaps… (He looks towards a clock.) Ten-thirty tomorrow morning, members of the jury.

  (Light change. The courtroom characters go in darkness as muzak plays.)

  (Light downstage. ELSPETH and RODDY are drinking together in the hotel bar.)

  RODDY: You didn’t mind. Meeting here, I mean?

  ELSPETH: Not really. We’re not supposed to haunt bars, or mix with the public. Keith wouldn’t approve…

  RODDY: Keith! (Small laugh.) I don’t think we have to worry about Keith any more. (Pause.) I want to give you a bit of good news. You know I’ve been going through a bit of a bad patch lately. Not from any fault of my own…

  ELSPETH: (Smiles.) When haven’t you been going through a bad patch…? It’s something I’ve grown to love about you.

  RODDY: (Serious and rather pompous for a change.) I have asked you here, Elspeth. To offer you security.

  (Pause. She looks at him with growing dread.)

  ELSPETH: Offer me what?

  RODDY: Marriage.

  ELSPETH: I spend my days disentangling marriages. Sorting out the consequences of furtive infidelities. Doing my best for the kids. Deciding who gets the custody of the digital television. You think I want to go home to that? I want to go home to a quiet evening of irresponsible and, if possible, spectacular sex.

  RODDY: (Ignoring this.) Someone’s put me onto a cottage. You’d really love it. I’d be at the office in the daytime, of course. And a few boring dinners with the local big-wigs. Lions, Freemasons, Elks. All those sort of King of the Jungle rituals. But you could get the garden going. And you’d have the dogs. They’ll keep your hands full…
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br />   ELSPETH: (Appalled.) I’d have the dogs…!

  RODDY: Jack Russell, a Labrador and a cocker spaniel. Remember…

  ELSPETH: I remember. Muddy paws on my white trousers. Muzzles pressed into my crotch. You mean, I’d have the dogs all day?

  RODDY: Well, you wouldn’t want to keep your job, would you?

  ELSPETH: Wouldn’t I?

  RODDY: I mean, I’d feel a bit ridiculous married to a judge.

  ELSPETH: How ridiculous would I feel… As a sort of perpetual kennel maid?

  RODDY: But you’re always complaining. About your job.

  ELSPETH: At least it keeps me in touch with people going through bad patches… How did you emerge from yours, now we’re on the subject?

  RODDY: I just thought of a scheme for solving my particular troubles.

  ELSPETH: You thought of it?

  RODDY: As a matter of fact, it was one of your Judge chaps gave me the idea.

  ELSPETH: Not Uncle Fred?

  RODDY: No. The other one.

  ELSPETH: (Astonished.) Keith! At dinner, as far as I can remember, Keith was toying with the idea of cracking down on careless driving by means of mandatory life sentences or some such nonsense and Fred was recycling his old jokes. What did Keith tell you…?

  RODDY: Something he said helped me solve a certain legal problem. I don’t think I should say any more at the moment, except… (A charming smile.) What about it, old girl? Why don’t you relax a bit and marry me!

  ELSPETH: (Looks at her watch.) I’d better get back to dinner in the lodgings. Your friend Keith doesn’t like us being late. (She gets up, starts to go.) Life in the Family Court may be pretty good hell at times. But, in my view, Roddy, it beats looking after dogs.

  (She goes. Lights fade.)

  (CASSANDRA and SWIVER enter downstage. She’s robed, carrying her wig. They are on their way to court.)

  CASSANDRA: That bloody man!

  SWIVER: We know him well down here, Miss Cresswell. Quite frankly, we dread him coming.

  CASSANDRA: I just hope I got the point over to the jury.

  SWIVER: You did manfully, Miss Cresswell. I have to say that for you.

  CASSANDRA: How about…I did womanfully?

  SWIVER: Sorry. It’s the correctness, I know. I can’t seem to keep up with it.

  CASSANDRA: I thought not.

  SWIVER: And that Marston Dawlish. I’d call him cheap! Flirting with the judge. Smooching up to him, if you want my honest opinion.

  CASSANDRA: (Looks disapproving.) Womanful behaviour? (Pause.) I’m going to ditch this judge.

  SWIVER: (Doubtful.) You’re sure…?

  CASSANDRA: I’ve made up my mind. We’ll get the jury to loathe him as much as we do.

  SWIVER: And how do we manage that?

  CASSANDRA: Egg him on. Lead him on to behave even more like a cold-blooded, hard-hearted, merciless bully.

  SWIVER: You mean, manfully?

  CASSANDRA: You’ve got it, Mr Swiver.

  (During the above scene, the upstage area has been entered by the courtroom characters, including DACRE. He is standing in the witness position. CASSANDRA moves upstage, putting on her wig, takes her place in court, standing, but instead of addressing the witness, she’s having a quick consultation with SWIVER, who has taken his place behind her. KEITH is restless and irritable.)

  KEITH: Miss Cresswell. We can’t all wait on your convenience.

  (CASSANDRA takes no notice.)

  Miss Cresswell!

  (CASSANDRA finishes talking to SWIVER. Then she turns and smiles at KEITH.)

  You are keeping the court waiting!

  CASSANDRA: Oh, I’m sure the jury won’t mind that, my Lord. (She looks at the audience.) A few more minutes for us may mean the whole of young Byron Johnson’s life…

  KEITH: (Furious.) Miss Cresswell…!

  (CASSANDRA ignores him and turns quickly to the witness.)

  CASSANDRA: Inspector. I want to get this perfectly clear. You say that this so-called confession was first made to you two officers in the car when you arrested Byron…

  DACRE: He said it in the car. Yes.

  CASSANDRA: In the back seat?

  DACRE: Yes.

  CASSANDRA: Sitting between you…?

  DACRE: Yes.

  CASSANDRA: This touching scene wasn’t immortalised on video?

  DACRE: There was no video, no.

  CASSANDRA: It wasn’t recorded on tape…?

  DACRE: No.

  CASSANDRA: Did you choose to have this conversation in the car so that there should be no record of it?

  KEITH: There was a record of it later, Miss Cresswell. Don’t you remember?

  CASSANDRA: I’m coming to that, if your Lordship will allow me. (To DACRE.) So! This boy is admitting to murder… And there’s no solicitor, no recording machine… Nothing!

  DACRE: That is right… But…

  CASSANDRA: But you wrote out a record of what you say you remembered… With your Sergeant?

  DACRE: (To KEITH.) Immediately on arrival at the station… My Lord.

  CASSANDRA: And was Byron present when you made up that document?

  DACRE: He wasn’t present. No.

  KEITH: Miss Cresswell. You used the expression ‘made up’. Can we be clear about this. Are you saying that these officers invented the conversation in the car?

  CASSANDRA: I thank your Lordship. Your Lordship puts it far more clearly than I did.

  KEITH: I am merely trying to discover what your case is. Of course, you’ll deal with the fact that your client read over and signed the record…

  CASSANDRA: My Lord. The prosecution in this case is ably represented by my learned friend, Mr Dawlish. I’m sure he can manage without your Lordship’s assistance.

  KEITH: (Furious.) Miss Cresswell! That was an outrageous remark!

  CASSANDRA: Then, of course, the jury will disregard it.

  (To the witness.) So, the first Byron knew of any sort of record of the conversation in the car was this document?

  (She holds up her copy.)

  DACRE: Which he signed.

  CASSANDRA: If you could call that a signature…

  DACRE: It’s a bit of a scrawl…

  CASSANDRA: A complete scrawl, isn’t it?

  DACRE: If you say so…

  CASSANDRA: Quite illegible…?

  DACRE: It’s difficult to make out what it says. Yes.

  KEITH: Perhaps like the signatures of a good many doctors, and businessmen…?

  CASSANDRA: Inspector. We’re not talking about doctors and business tycoons. We’re talking about a seventeen-year-old boy. Did you read it aloud to him before he signed it?

  DACRE: No.

  CASSANDRA: Why not?

  DACRE: Because we gave him ample time to read it to himself.

  CASSANDRA: Inspector Dacre. Are you sure Byron read this statement?

  DACRE: Quite sure.

  CASSANDRA: Do you swear that on your oath…?

  KEITH: He’s already on his oath, Miss Cresswell.

  CASSANDRA: Do you swear it?

  DACRE: I have done so. Yes.

  CASSANDRA: And do you swear these notes were read over by Byron?

  DACRE: I saw him read them through. Yes.

  CASSANDRA: In your presence?

  DACRE: And Sergeant Brian. And the station officer.

  CASSANDRA: That’s completely untrue, isn’t it?

  (Pause. KEITH seems about to say something, but thinks better of it.)

  Didn’t you realise, Inspector? Byron Johnson can’t read.

  (Light change. The light fades as the court empties and comes up as the furniture is moved into the lodgings. HUBERT is standing as FRED comes into the room.)

  HUBERT: Feeling a bit better now, are we?

  FRED: I have to say, Hubert. Your cure was quite miraculous.

  HUBERT: I told you, didn’t I? It’s the toes. They’re the nerve centre of all our ills.

  FRED: I wouldn’t say it was the toes exactly.


  Pause.

  HUBERT: Interesting case today, was it?

  FRED: I don’t do interesting cases any more. (Depressed.) Building contracts.

  HUBERT: That’s all they’ll give you. After you had that trouble…

  FRED: Not my trouble. Theirs. The star-crossed lovers.

  HUBERT: They shouldn’t’ve done it.

  FRED: Probably not. (Pause.) Verona was the Cowslip Meadow Estate, a race track for stolen cars and a local drug market. The balcony was cracked concrete fifteen floors up and they had sex on it. Juliet was fourteen, like in the play. He was seventeen and happened to be her brother. When the social worker found out and called it incest, Juliet panicked and said Romeo forced her. There was no Friar Lawrence to administer death-like drugs, so he turned up before me at the Old Bailey. The jury consisted of right wing hangers and floggers and the left wing politically correct.

  A deadly combination! I had to sentence a boy I knew hadn’t committed rape. His eyes were full of terror. What did I give him? Probation? Community Service?

  A suspended sentence.

  HUBERT: Keith wouldn’t have done that.

  FRED: I don’t think so! The tabloids were down on me like a ton of bricks. ‘Dotty Dotteridge.’ ‘His Raving Loony Lordship.’ ‘Pat On The Head For A Young Rapist.’ That’s when I was taken off crime.

  HUBERT: I heard your clerks talking. Keith’s dead set on convicting that black boy.

  FRED: I expect he is.

  HUBERT: And as for that lady brief… He’d like to give her a life sentence.

  FRED: I can think of very few people Keith wouldn’t like to give life sentences to.