Simon Lelic - The Child Who

Dale nodded, held up a hand. ‘What about the boy’s parents? What do they say?’

‘They seemed in favour of diminished responsibility until they realised what it would involve. Now they think Daniel should plead guilty. Throw himself on the mercy of the court.’ Tell them Daniel did it and say he’s sorry – isn’t that how Blake had put it? As though sorry was the magic word; as though uttering it would be enough to salvage a future for his stepson.

‘The boy has a record. Doesn’t he?’

‘He does but the infractions are minor. Just kid stuff, really, and some time ago. They might even help us. Mightn’t they? If we paint them as cries for help. Like his school record. Couldn’t we use that too?’

Dale gave Leo a weary smile. ‘You don’t believe that, Leo.’

And it was true. Leo did not.

‘What about the schools?’ Dale said. ‘Daniel’s teachers? Might their testimony help us in any way?’

Leo thought of Ms Bridgwater, Daniel’s former – and Ellie’s current – head teacher. He thought of the younger teacher Daniel had attacked. ‘What could they say?’

Dale considered. He shook his head. ‘You’re right. It would hardly matter.’

Leo straightened. ‘There’s plenty to show Daniel was troubled. His father’s in prison, walked out on the family when Daniel was eight. And Daniel must have been to, what? Four? Five schools in the past three years? All his life he’s been shunted from one place to the next. He needed help but he was never offered any. I mean, he’s not stupid, his IQ tells us that, but he’s a year behind where he should be.’

‘They kept him down a year?’

Leo nodded. ‘And he’s bottom of his current class too.’

‘Any learning difficulties?’

‘None that have been diagnosed. One of the schools made a tentative diagnosis of hyperactivity. If you ask me, though, it was just a guess. A dismissal, rather. The only label that seems to have stuck is that Daniel was a troublemaker. A “low achiever” – isn’t that the term they use?’

‘What about social services? Was he on any lists?’

‘Not at the time. There was an investigation when he was a toddler because he kept showing up in A & E. It didn’t come to anything, though. Accident prone, was the verdict. One of those kids who’d find a knife in a drawer full of spoons.’

Dale resumed his pen spinning. He nodded his head as though to a beat. ‘Useful background,’ he muttered. Leo could not quite tell if he was talking to himself or offering some half-hearted encouragement. Either way, background would not be enough. Leo felt his posture deflate. He looked at his hands and, glancing up, realised that Dale was watching him. The barrister, caught, looked away. Then he set down his pen and tested the air with a cough.

‘Have you considered,’ he said, ‘mitigation?’

Leo felt his expression harden.

‘There’s no reason you can’t make the argument you’re making now in the pre-sentence report,’ said Dale. ‘Plus, if he pleads guilty, Daniel could benefit from a reduction in his tally.’

Leo was shaking his head. ‘But then he’s guilty. It’s not just about the sentence, Dale. If he’s guilty, he’s guilty for the rest of his life: on registers, databases, lists. And anyway, there’s no guarantee that he’ll be any better off. Not given the attention on the case.’

‘Possibly not. But it seems to me it’s the boy’s best option. I mean, his parents… Something tells me you don’t think much of them but… well… they might, in this case, be right.’

‘It’s not right. How can it be right? Someone needs to consider why. Don’t they? Whoever judges him needs to understand what led Daniel to do what he did. They owe the boy that much. We do. At least my way he has a chance.’

‘He took a life, Leo. An innocent child’s life.’

‘He took two lives. He took his own at the same time.’

‘Not in the sense that matters. And anyway it’s not about why. It’s never about why. We need to condemn a little more and understand a little less. John Major – remember? This is England, Leo, not Scandinavia.’

‘So we leave it to the newspapers. Is that what you’re saying? We let the Sun and the Mirror and the Mail take care of why?’

‘I’m saying that it’s not our job. That’s all.’ Dale paused, then added, ‘Especially when we don’t even know the answer.’

Leo opened his mouth, then clamped it tight. He was leaning forwards, he realised, reaching towards the centre of the table. He slid his hands into his lap and sat back.

Dale sighed. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m on your side. But you should consider as well the effect the trial would have on Daniel. Whether dragging this thing out is really, from his perspective, the right thing to do.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Think about it. Think about what would be involved. You’ve been to a murder trial, I’m sure.’

Leo had. Two of them. One as an observer, the other as part of the defence team. Neither had been as dramatic as he had expected but they had been long, gruelling, even for someone just watching from the sidelines. ‘It would be different, though. Wouldn’t it? Given Daniel’s age.’

Dale shrugged. ‘The barristers might take off their wigs. The judge might sit a little lower. But no, actually – it would be exactly the same. A little slower. A little more drawn out. It would be an ordeal, Leo. There’s no getting away from that.’

Leo moved in his chair. ‘Well. As you say. There’s no getting away from that.’

Dale, charitably, ignored Leo’s tone. ‘Would Daniel be up to it, do you think? If he had to testify, how would he come across? Would he stay calm? Would he seem contrite? Would he remain quiet, pay attention, sit straight: all those things he seems so rarely to have managed at school?’ The barrister’s gaze seemed to have settled on the scratches on Leo’s cheek.

Leo turned away, dropped his chin. ‘I think,’ he said. ‘I think maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves.’

Dale said nothing. He watched Leo for a moment, then smiled and pulled himself straight. ‘Perhaps we are. I’m sorry, Leo. It wasn’t my intention to make this harder.’

‘No,’ said Leo. He looked up and said it again, this time displaying a brightness he did not feel. ‘Really,’ he added, ‘it’s fine. You’ve been a huge help. You really have.’

Dale smiled, in a way that said they both knew that was not true. He closed his folder. Leo, for a moment, stared at the table. Then he set about gathering his belongings.

‘How much youth work have you done, Leo?’ said Dale, after a moment. He was tucking his pen into his jacket pocket, not looking at Leo as he spoke.

Leo had, once, attended a seminar. He rescued himself from saying so. ‘Some,’ he said instead. ‘Not a lot.’ He had a daughter, too. That was the other reason, as Leo recalled, that Howard had appointed him their practice specialist.

‘It’s tough,’ Dale said. ‘Isn’t it? It can get to you. Affect your judgement.’ He was standing now, facing Leo across the table. ‘It can be hard, sometimes, to remain objective, to distinguish what we need to do from what we feel we should.’

Leo focused on fastening his briefcase.

They were almost at the lift. Leo cleared his throat and Dale glanced. ‘Do you…’ Leo said. ‘Have you ever…’ And now Dale was smiling and frowning both. ‘Have you ever been threatened?’ Leo spoke quickly. ‘Because of work?’

They stopped at the elevator. Dale pushed the call button and gave a puff. He folded his arms. He looked suspiciously at Leo. ‘You mean by a client? Are you talking about Dan—’