Tim Vicary - A Game of Proof

‘I’ve known Gary a long time, sir. He’s moved from petty theft to assault, GBH and rape over a period of ten years. He has exactly the profile we’re looking for.’

‘Yes, but the DNA in the Whitaker case wasn’t his, was it, old son? So until we have positive evidence to the contrary, I suggest you assume that Harker didn’t murder Clayton or attack this schoolgirl either, and get out there looking for the man who did.’ He paused. ‘Any reason why Harker won’t be convicted?’

‘I don’t think so, no sir. I’m giving evidence against him tomorrow.’

‘Yes, well make sure you don’t cock that up, at least. He’s your one good catch so far. But there are more sharks than him — this Steersby case proves it. You’ve caught one, Terence — but we need two!’

With an odd supercilious smile on his face, Churchill held up two fingers to illustrate his point. Two fingers that looked, to Terry’s eyes, uncannily like the first V-sign from his new boss.

For her second day on the witness stand, Sharon Gilbert appeared in a navy blue skirt and jacket over a white blouse. It conveyed exactly the right impression — sober, respectable, the sort of thing a business secretary might wear. She flicked back a curl of hair as Sarah began.

‘Ms Gilbert, I believe Gary Harker lived with you for a year, didn’t he?’

‘About a year, yes.’

‘And during that time you slept in the same bed together, had regular sexual intercourse, and generally behaved as man and wife. Is that right?’

‘Yes. That’s right.’ Sharon nodded suspiciously, unable to disagree so far.

‘You must have been very fond of him, then?’

‘Well … yes, I was at first …’

‘Were you in love with him?’

Sharon smiled contemptuously. ‘’Course not, no!’

‘Really? Not in love?’ Sarah glanced at the jury. ‘But you let him move into your house, slept with him every night. How did you feel about him, exactly?’

Sharon looked confused. ‘Well, I mean, I quite fancied him, like — he was a good lay, we had some laughs together.’

‘I see. He was good for sex and a laugh, but you didn’t love him.’

‘Love him? No.’

‘All right. But during that year you had the house to look after, and two children to bring up. Did Gary help you with that — contribute to the housekeeping, perhaps?’

‘Well, yes, ‘cause I made him. We wouldn’t have had money to eat, else.’

‘So he gave you money. Did he ever play with the children, take them places?’

‘Well, yeah, he did sometimes, what do you think?’

‘But they weren’t his children, were they? How did Gary get on with their father?’

‘With their fathers? Well, I dunno if he met them. I suppose he met Wayne’s dad once or twice, ‘cause he took him to football. But not Katie’s dad — he’s gone. I never see him.’

So far, so good, Sarah thought. She was treading a thin line, as the judge had warned in chambers. It was no longer an acceptable defence to cross-examine a rape victim about her sex life, in order to suggest that the woman was so immoral that she somehow asked for it; but it was quite legitimate to ask about her relationship with the accused. And if Sharon chose to reveal that her children had two different fathers, and that she shacked up with Gary for sex rather than love, then so much the better. At least it began to alter the impression of a perfect mother that Julian Lloyd-Davies had tried to create yesterday.

‘All right, Ms Gilbert, I want to ask you a little more about your relationship. You say that Gary contributed to the housekeeping and sometimes played with the children, and that you liked him because he was a laugh and — a good lay, I think you said. When you made love with him, it was a good experience, was it?’

Sharon smiled, embarrassed. She seemed almost more embarrassed by this easy question than by the horrific details she had given yesterday about the rape; but then she had been prepared for those, psyched herself up to tell them. Now she hesitated. ‘Well … yeah, it was okay.’

‘He was a good lover to you?’

‘Sometimes, yes. When he wasn’t drunk.’

‘All right. And during that year, did he ever force you to do anything — any sexual act, I mean — that you didn’t want to do?’

This was a risky question. The wrong answer would make things worse for her client. But there were benefits, too, if it went the way she hoped.

Sharon hesitated. ‘Well … he could be a bit rough, like …’

Wrong answer. Quickly, Sarah minimised the damage. ‘What I mean is, did he ever treat you the way the intruder treated you on the night of the rape? Did he ever do anything like that?’

‘Oh, nothing like that. God, no.’

Right answer. The risk had paid off. ‘Did he ever tie you up in the way you described yesterday?’

‘No. No, he never done that.’

‘All right. So during that year, he regularly made love to you in a perfectly acceptable way, a way that you enjoyed, that gave you pleasure?’

‘Yeah … I suppose.’ As Sharon hesitated, Sarah moved on quickly.

‘Very well. Now, I want to ask about the events of the night of the rape, Ms Gilbert.’

Sarah paused, remembering the surprise change of direction she had planned. With luck, the jury would understand before Sharon did.

‘When you first saw this hooded man on the stairs, you were frightened, weren’t you?’

‘What? Yeah, of course. I was terrified.’

‘But you didn’t think it was Gary at that point, did you?’

‘No … not then. I just saw the hood and screamed.’

‘I understand. You were frightened because you suddenly saw a hooded man, a complete stranger, coming up your stairs. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah.’ Sharon nodded her head sarcastically, and stared at Sarah as though she were a simpleton. ‘That’s what I’m saying, yeah. You deaf or something?’

Sarah ignored this, and continued smoothly. ‘If you had thought the man on the stairs was Gary, would you have been less frightened?’

‘What?’

Sarah repeated the question. Sharon thought about it. ‘Well, yes, I suppose a bit …’

‘You would have been less frightened because Gary had never seriously hurt you or raped you before. Isn’t that right?’

Sharon looked confused. ‘Well, yeah, but I didn’t know it was Gary then, did I? I mean, he had a hood on!’

‘Yes, exactly. You were afraid because you had no idea who the hooded man was.’ Sarah paused again, to let the point sink in. ‘So when you began to think this man was Gary, you were less afraid, were you?’

‘What? Well, yeah… I dunno.’

‘Were you more or less afraid when you began to think the man was Gary?’

‘What’s it matter?’ Sharon was confused now. ‘I was scared because this man had bust into my house and was raping me! It didn’t matter if it were Gary or not — I was bloody terrified!’

‘You were afraid of rape, of course, I appreciate that. But did you think the man might kill you as well, or hurt your children? Were you frightened of that?’

‘Yes, I bloody well was! He had a knife, you know — he stuck it in me throat. I thought I were going to die, and he’d murder my kids an’ all!’

‘Yes, I understand. So what I’m trying to get at, Ms Gilbert, is that while all these terrible things were happening, your mind was quite naturally full of all sorts of fears and terrors because you had no idea what the man was going to do next or who he was or whether you and your children were going to be alive at the end of it all; is that right? You were completely terrified because all these dreadful thoughts were rushing through your mind.’