Tim Vicary - A Game of Proof

For part of this speech he had been talking to the jury, then turning back to her and even the judge and the people in the well of the court, as though he wanted to convince everyone of what he was saying. For the first time Sarah felt it might work, that people might really believe her son and understand him. But they might also realize he had just described a perfect motive for killing Jasmine. They had seen her mutilated body. Now here he was calling her a bitch. Pray God Jasmine’s mother’s not here.

‘And then what happened?’

‘She just walked out. I tried to stop her but she was too quick, she was outside. That’s probably when that old nosy git was cleaning his teeth and heard us shouting. Anyway I tried to pull her back in and she clouted my face with her bag — he didn’t see that, did he? But that’s why I hit her back, because it hurt. Anyway she was such a bitch, to go like that after all she’d said. So then I went back in and … that’s the last I saw of her.’

‘You never saw her again?’

‘No.’

There was a collective relaxation around the court, as though a key moment had passed. But what conclusions had people drawn, Sarah wondered. That was the mystery.

‘So what did you do then?’

‘Nothing special. I just mooched around indoors thinking about how she’d behaved. I was all, like, churned up inside. Then after a while I went out and got in the car.’

‘Why did you do that?’

‘Well, I couldn’t stay there. I had to go somewhere.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Scarborough, in the end.’

‘Why Scarborough?’

‘Why not? It just happened, really. I turned left out of York and that’s where I ended up. I went for a walk on the beach in the middle of the night. Quiet, it was. Just me and a pair of seals in the dawn. I’d never seen a seal before. I didn’t know they had them in Scarborough.’

‘What did you do in the morning?’

‘Got breakfast, found somewhere to stay. Did a lot of thinking.’

‘What were you thinking about?’

‘What a mess my life was. How I could make a new start.’

‘Did you think about Jasmine?’

‘Yes. Course I did.’

‘What did you think?’

‘How I loved her. How beautiful she was and what a bitch she was to me and probably every other man she’d ever met, and what could you do if you loved someone like that. Whether I could break the habit of her like giving up smoking. Every day I stayed in Scarborough I thought I’d maybe won something. I thought I’d proved I could live without her and also maybe she was knocking on my door in York and feeling the same hurt I felt. I thought if I managed a month maybe I’d be cured of it. I could start a new life and never go back.’

‘And you had no idea that she was dead?’

‘No, of course not. No.’

‘And you didn’t murder her?’

‘How could I? I was in Scarborough. I never saw her again after she left my house.’

Phil Turner glanced up, ready to cross-examine if she had finished. But she hadn’t.

‘All right, Simon. Let’s examine a few details. You’ve told the court you wore your trainers to go running, and you’ve heard the forensic scientist describe how she found traces of Jasmine’s blood on those trainers. Do you have any idea how that blood could have got there?’

‘Well, all I can think is, it happened a few days before, on the Monday.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Well, the same thing, she came to my house then too. And after we’d made love, she was walking round the house in my shirt and those trainers — nothing else. Anyhow she was in the kitchen and I heard her call out, and when I went down she was swearing and sucking her thumb. She’d cut her finger with the breadknife. So maybe some blood fell onto the trainers then.’

‘Was there a lot of blood?’

‘Not a lot, no. She ran it under the tap and I gave her a plaster and that was it really.’

‘Did the blood get on the breadknife?’

‘Yes. Some of it, anyhow. I noticed it next morning when I was washing up. There was a stain on the blade near the handle. I thought I’d washed it all off but, obviously not …’

Pity about that, Simon, Sarah thought cynically. If you’d washed it off and put your shoes in the washing machine we’d never be here, would we?

‘Why didn’t you tell the police about this when they interviewed you?’

‘I didn’t think. I mean it was nothing, just a tiny cut. I’d forgotten all about it. And then they were shouting at me and saying she was dead, for Christ’s sake …’

‘All right, let’s talk about when you were arrested. What happened then?’

‘Yeah, well. I was asleep, and then — in the middle of the night — there were these men in my room. It was like a weird nightmare. Men shouting and yelling over my bed.’

‘What were they saying?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t get it, at first. Then one of them said Jasmine was dead but I didn’t believe him. How could I?’

‘Did they read the caution to you?’

‘You’re joking! They might have done, but I didn’t know what was going on. I was terrified. I thought they were going to kill me at first, then they were saying Jasmine was dead and I’d killed her and they dragged me outside and shoved me in this car.’

Would the young men in the jury believe this? Sarah wondered. Surely some had had dealings with the police on a Saturday night. How well had they been treated? She continued with the standard questions with which a lawyer dissects a chaotic and confused situation.

‘Did you understand that they were policemen?’

‘They said they were but I couldn’t believe it. I thought they were burglars or something.’

‘Did they show you any identification?’

‘No. They just handcuffed me and dragged me downstairs.’

‘All right. What happened in the car?’

‘They kept telling me Jasmine was dead and that I’d killed her. They were shouting, asking me questions — why was I in Scarborough, how did I kill her, where was I when she died?’

Lucy and Sarah had both insisted how important it was for Simon to emphasize this point. The lesson seemed to have gone home. The only danger was that he would overdo it.

‘What was your state of mind at this time?’

‘I was scared … I mean shit scared. I didn’t know what was happening, it was like some awful nightmare. I just wanted to get out as fast as I could.’

‘Did you answer those questions?’

‘A bit, yeah. I said I hadn’t killed her.’

‘Did you say anything else?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know what I said, really, I was that scared. I was in a panic. I could have said anything; I just wanted to get out of there.’

‘All right. What happened at the police station?’

‘Well, Lucy — Mrs Parsons, my solicitor, came, and — I told her the truth. She told me to write a statement and sign it.’

Good, Simon, well done. Nearly there now. She risked a faint nod of encouragement.

‘Did DCI Churchill show you another paper which he asked you to sign?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you sign it?’

‘Because it wasn’t true. His paper said I hadn’t seen Jasmine for weeks and that wasn’t true, I had. I saw her the day she died. But all I did was make love to her, I didn’t kill her, for God’s sake. I couldn’t do that!’

That’s all, then, Sarah thought. I can’t end better than that.

‘All right, Simon, wait there. Mr Turner will have some questions.’

She sat down, leaving him alone on the stand. Her hands began to tremble.

When Terry’s phone rang, he didn’t recognise the voice on the other end at first.

‘Inspector Bateson?’

‘Yes.’