Bernard Knight - Grounds for Appeal

Penelope Forbes was a tall, thin woman of about forty-five, with rimless spectacles and prematurely greying hair pulled back into a severe bun on the back of her head. Angela thought she looked very tired, but had a pleasant smile and a pair of sharp blue eyes. She began by thanking Richard for his report, of which she had a copy in front of her, as did the solicitor.

‘I’ve discussed it over the phone to Paul Marchmont, our leading counsel, who said it sounded promising. We’ll have to have another conference soon with Paul, of course, but I thought I’d just go through the main points with you today.’

Before they began, Richard explained Angela’s presence, as a senior forensic biologist with years of experience at the Metropolitan Police Laboratory.

‘Doctor Bray feels that the claim that the blood present on the sleeve came from the stabbing can also be contested.’

The barrister smiled at Angela. ‘I look forward to hearing your opinion, Doctor Bray. Before that, perhaps you, Doctor Pryor, could run through a summary of what you feel about the vital time-of-death issue.’

Richard ran his finger through his hair, in a rather nervous gesture that was unusual for him. Angela suspected that he was not used to displaying his professional expertise to a woman, even though he already had a virtual harem back at Garth House.

He was given a respite by the appearance of a secretary bearing a tray of coffee in a motley collection of cups and saucers. While they drank the rather insipid brew, the conversation became more general.

‘It’s the old story of doctors sticking rigidly to the rules of thumb that they have been taught since they were students,’ began Richard. ‘I’m not blaming them for having poor methods to work with, for I’m in the same boat. But the problem lies in the dogmatism and stubbornness which many doctors have. I’ve got no better methods myself, but at least I am always willing to qualify the results with an acknowledgement that they are very approximate and prone to large errors.’

Penelope Forbes smiled again, a habit which seemed to come easily to her.

‘Do I detect an allusion to the great Sir Bernard Spilsbury there? But I agree, I often come across such witnesses. Do you feel it’s a fault especially with the older experts? The one in this case is certainly getting on in years.’

Richard agreed, with reservations. ‘It’s not just because they’re old, in the sense of being doddery old fools. I think it’s more because with years of practice behind them, they feel too sure of themselves — the “I’ve seen it all before” syndrome.’

Angela joined in the discussion for the first time. ‘Doctor Pryor is right, I’ve seen experts steamrolling their way through their evidence, stubbornly refusing to accept any sensible contrary opinion.’

Richard hid a grin, as he detected a trace of bitterness in his partner’s voice. He felt that in the past, she must have had a couple of frustrating contests with other experts.

‘Yes, the harder they are challenged, the harder they dig their heels in and refuse to admit that they could be wrong,’ he confirmed. ‘It’s often a matter of professional pride, and I’m afraid forensic medicine tends to attract the prima donnas of the profession, those who like to see their names in the newspapers.’

Having finished his rather insipid cup of Maxwell House, Richard got back to business.

‘With the time-of-death issue, there are four aspects to consider — and, indeed, challenge. The first is rigor mortis, so beloved of crime novelists. Then there’s post-mortem lividity, the discoloration of the skin after death. The next is stomach contents and the last, the only one with any hope of giving a decent estimate, is the body temperature.’

The solicitor asked the first question. ‘How many of those can you challenge, doctor?’

‘All of them, I hope. At least, what I can challenge is Doctor Claridge’s interpretation of them. His confidence in his accuracy is completely unfounded and I suspect it was coloured by what the police told him of the circumstances.’

He began going through the items, one by one, keeping the explanation rather superficial, as he knew he would have to do it all again in more detail when they met the ‘silk’ — a lawyer’s name for a Queen’s Counsel, because of the gown he wore.

‘The easiest one to contradict is post-mortem lividity, or “death staining” as it used to be called. In fact, the modern name is hypostasis, not that a new name makes it any more useful.’

‘I see Claridge doesn’t actually claim that this lividity points to the one-hour time window that’s relevant?’ Miss Forbes pointed out.

‘No, he just says it’s consistent with that time of death. What he doesn’t say — and the defence didn’t ask him — was that it would also be consistent with death far outside that time bracket. And that’s the situation with the other criteria. They could all be correct, but they could also be hopelessly wrong.’

Miss Forbes seemed intent on being a devil’s advocate, as well as one for Millie Wilson — which was quite right, as the opposition would be asking the same questions of Doctor Pryor.

‘But Doctor Claridge said in his evidence that he took all those criteria into account together, in coming to his conclusion as to the time of death.’

Richard’s laugh was a sardonic bark. ‘Adding four lousy methods together still makes one lousy conclusion,’ he replied. ‘The answer doesn’t get better by its multiplicity.’

‘So that applies to rigor mortis as well, I presume?’ asked the solicitor.

‘Rigor is marginally better than lividity, but that’s not saying much. Claridge saw the body in the mortuary; he wasn’t even called to the scene. It had been dead since sometime the previous night when he examined it at two o’clock in the afternoon. There’s no chance of pinning the time of death to within an hour after that delay.’

‘You said that temperature is the best means of timing the death, doctor,’ said Penelope Forbes. ‘The pathologist here seemed to rely most heavily on that.’

Richard Pryor shrugged in dismissal. ‘It could have helped a lot more, but the whole examination was poorly carried out. No one thought of taking the temperature at the scene, when the body was found. It was almost another seven hours before the temperature of the body was measured. The body was never weighed in the mortuary, so we don’t know what his body mass was, which affects the cooling rate.’

Angela smiled at her partner, who was getting more voluble as he argued his case, gesturing with his hands, his unruly brown hair tossing about.

‘So you’ve rubbished three of his criteria! What about the state of his stomach contents?’

Richard subsided a little, but shook his head dismissively. ‘Another fairy tale, if you’re looking for accuracy. There are so many variables, there’s not a chance of settling on the true time many hours later. When I was in Singapore, I did a little research on this, in cases where it was known what time the dead person last ate. Comparing that time with what was in the stomach was too random to be of any use in evidence — and certainly not beyond reasonable doubt!’

For another half-hour they bandied the matter around, Richard giving his reasons why he felt it impossible to restrict the time of death to the time when Millie was back in the house in St Paul’s.

‘Of course she could have killed him in that half-hour, there’s no denying that,’ he said in conclusion. ‘But equally, he could have died in the many hours after she left the house — and this medical evidence is so nebulous that it can’t exclude that possibility.’

The junior counsel nodded her understanding of his argument and repeated what Moira had said back in Tintern.