Death By Dangerous (20 page)

Whoever he was, he was late. Adey paced up and down. She wanted to make it to Bradford for the verdict. She wondered how Anderson was doing in the box. Her mobile rang. ‘Hello?'

‘Walk to the Curry Mile, wait outside the Sanam Sweet Centre.'

He wanted to meet her near the office. Was he just making sure she was alone?

Ten minutes later she was there. Her phone rang again.

‘Walk to Whitworth Park and sit down.'

Adey didn't like it one bit, but agreed. Already this had the feel of something dangerous. After ten minutes of waiting on a bench and thinking everyone she saw was him she heard a voice from behind her.

‘Hello, I am Shezaad.' An Asian man, early-thirties with a beard sat down beside her. In traditional Pakistani dress, he wore
shalwar
trousers and a long
kameez
shirt under a donkey jacket.

Adey wasted no time: ‘How is Heena?'

Shezaad smiled. ‘You know she is dead.'

Lying was pointless. ‘Yes, what happened?'

Shezaad fiddled with a ring on his finger. After letting out a deep sigh, he began: ‘She was my girlfriend. We were to be married. I loved her very much. But I know nothing of the world, only of Islam.'

Adey was already sceptical.

He went on: ‘I found out after she died that…' He paused, repulsed at the forthcoming revelation. ‘That she had been working as a prostitute.'

‘Who told you that?'

With a mixture of anger and sorrow: ‘It doesn't matter now.'

‘It matters to me. Who told you that?'

Shezaad politely ignored the question. ‘My heart is broken.'

‘So why didn't you come forward – speak to the police?'

‘I could not. I was here illegally, so was Heena. We are from Pakistan.' After a moment he continued: ‘The man in the car was a customer. I could not be the one to ruin her reputation.'

Adey jumped up. ‘This is bullshit. I don't believe you. You delayed seeing me because you had to find out what to say to me. Who do you work for?'

‘I've told you the truth.'

Adey began walking away, then whipped her phone out and held it up to take Shezaad's picture.

‘What are you doing?' he shouted, putting a palm up to the lens.

She backed away.

Shezaad lunged at her, taking hold of an arm and grabbing at the phone.

Adey kicked him hard between the legs.

He buckled.

Taking her chance, she ran without looking back. People she passed stopped and turned in curiosity at a young woman running for her life through Rusholme.

Only back at the Curry Mile, in the apparent safety of the crowds, did she stop to flag down a passing cab. Breathless, she only just managed to splutter the words: ‘Bradford Crown Court, quick as you can.'

The cabby gave his customer a double take. ‘That'll be a hundred quid, at least.'

‘Just drive.' Once they were on their way she checked her phone for the photo. Relief − she had a clean shot. Who the hell was he? And why didn't he ask her name?

Unless he already knew all about her.

The jury had heard all the evidence. HHJ Cranston rose for ten minutes to allow the advocates time to prepare for their closing speeches.

Hussain collared Anderson as soon as they were outside the courtroom. ‘Why?' He was exasperated. ‘Why couldn't you lie? You would have been acquitted.'

‘But I wouldn't have been John Anderson anymore. I had to be true to myself.'

Hussain shook his head and said: ‘You are one stubborn bastard, John.' Hussain had the utmost respect for his client. Despite everything, he had maintained his principles, even though it would probably cost him everything.

The photo of Shezaad came through on Hussain's iPhone with a short note of the encounter. They disclosed it to Stapleton who in turn showed it to Taylor. No one on the prosecution team recognised him or claimed to have any knowledge of him. Taylor called Shezaad's number which, unsurprisingly, was now switched off.

Hussain found it unnerving that even at this late stage of the case they were getting new information. ‘What do we do, John?' he asked his friend. ‘Do we try and ask the judge for time to investigate this further, or get on with speeches?'

Anderson mulled it over. ‘There's nowhere else to take it. Let's just get on with it.'

Hussain could see Anderson's fighting spirit ebbing away. The trial had taken its toll.

‘All parties to Court One.'

The press box and gallery were full. Taylor had to pull rank to get a seat.

Stapleton's speech was masterly, feigning regret for inviting a conviction of an otherwise law abiding individual. How tragic it all was, but their duty was to find Anderson guilty. She focused on the lack of any positive defence and Anderson's lie in his police interview. She made only passing reference to Sandra Granger's dubious evidence of sleep. After twenty minutes, she retook her seat, confident of victory.

Hussain's speech was longer and full of emotion. He dealt superbly with the lie, turning it on its head, making the point that Anderson couldn't lie to the jury, which demonstrated his honesty and innocence. He highlighted the lack of evidence of tiredness, coming only from a couple of jealous colleagues, and a mother twisted by grief. The expert evidence was dismissed as vague and inconclusive. He finished on the greatest mystery of the case: ‘Members of the jury, you will remember this case in six months from now. You will even remember it in six years. And when you do, you will still ask yourselves: who was Heena Butt? They never did tell us.

‘When you see on the television or read about terrible miscarriages of justice, people being released from jail after many years of imprisonment for something they didn't do, you may ask yourselves: what are those jurors who convicted him thinking when they see these news stories? Are they thinking: why were we so sure? Why didn't we see the signs? Why didn't we hear the alarm bells ringing?

‘Members of the jury, in this case, the alarm bells are ringing out loud and clear. You cannot be sure of guilt. The only proper verdict, on both counts, is not guilty.'

Anderson was deeply moved, not just by Hussain's speech, but his whole approach to the case. He'd given it everything, and prioritised his client above all other things. Anderson could have asked for no more.

Still half an hour before the short adjournment, HHJ Cranston decided to get on with his summing up so the jury could retire before lunch, and hopefully deliver verdicts by close of play.

First, there was a matter he raised with counsel in the absence of the jury. ‘Have either of you given any consideration as to whether the lesser alternative of causing death by careless driving should be left to the jury? I am minded to if there's no objection from either party?'

Both advocates requested five minutes to consider their respective positions.

Anderson and Hussain disappeared into a conference room. ‘Tahir, you know what happens when there are two counts?'

‘Yes, the jury compromise and convict on the lesser count.'

‘Which is why the judge wants it on the indictment. Guarantees a conviction for at least death by careless.'

‘It's tempting though, John. You need to think about it. Maybe twelve months, eighteen max. You'd only serve half that and you'd be in open conditions within weeks.'

‘But my career would still be over and we'd never know what really happened.'

‘We'll probably never know, whatever you decide. Like you said, Ahmed's gone and maybe even Tredwell had something to do with it. You mustn't lose focus. The primary objective is to get the best result for you.'

‘Sorry to break up the party, chaps.' Stapleton barged into the room. ‘It's your lucky day. In light of the judge's comments, I've taken instructions from the CPS and the OIC; not only do we consent to death by careless going on the indictment, we will accept a plea to it and bin the dangerous.'

Hussain was delighted.

Anderson was more cautious: ‘What would Sandra Granger have to say about that?'

‘It's not her decision, is it?' Stapleton replied.

‘Why would you accept careless?'

‘Contrary to what you might think, Mr Anderson, I am a fair prosecutor. We are not baying for blood. We accept you went for a coffee to wake you up. You wouldn't have known it takes twenty minutes to kick in. The facts fit a careless. We all make mistakes, we just have to pay for them, one way or another. Have a chat and let me know.'

Hussain sat down and chucked his wig on the table. ‘Sit down, John.'

Anderson joined him.

‘John, as your lawyer, I have to advise that it's a no-brainer. A very generous offer. You've admitted lying to the police. This is the reward for all our hard work. It justifies your decision to have a trial, and if you plead guilty now, the first time the lesser offence was offered, you'd get full credit, maybe even a suspended sentence.'

It was a big call.

Anderson was unsure of what to do. Eventually: ‘It just doesn't feel right. We've come this far.'

Tahir knew Anderson well enough now to predict what was coming next.

‘No, I've decided. No deals, no compromises, no death by careless on the indictment. All or nothing.'

The summing up was fair. No judge wanted to find himself appealed in London for bias. HHJ Cranston made it clear that the jury's task came down to one question: had the prosecution proved, so that the jury were sure, that Anderson had fallen asleep at the wheel or been distracted so that the vehicle crashed? There was no issue that his driving caused Heena Butt's and Molly Granger's deaths and so, if he drove dangerously, it followed that John Anderson would be guilty of causing death by dangerous driving. ‘What is dangerous driving, members of the jury? Well, the legal definition is driving that falls
far
below the standard of a careful and competent driver. No more, no less.'

At 1.05pm, the jury bailiffs were sworn and the jury filed out to begin their deliberations.

‘I will not take a verdict before 2.15,' indicated the judge, who had plans to go for lunch at his club now that his summing up was done.

Anderson shook Hussain's hand outside the courtroom and thanked him for all his efforts.

Keeping the truth from Anderson was more agonising for Hussain with each passing day.

‘Mr Hussain, can I have a word?' asked the usher. ‘The judge would like you to join him for lunch at the Bradford Club.'

Hussain thanked her then rolled his eyes at Anderson. He detested members' clubs of any sort, particularly when it involved social contact with the judiciary. ‘Protocol − he's only invited me because he can't ask Hannah without the defence being present.'

‘You'd better go then. Need to keep him happy. I used to hate that sort of thing.' Then with a sheepish grin: ‘Nevertheless, I always went − a right crawler.'

‘I remember,' Hussain replied with a wink. ‘Sure you'll be all right?'

‘Yes, I'll be fine. Go.' Anderson sat down on one of the seats on the now deserted landing.

He had never felt so alone.

The Bradford Club − upstairs in an old building in the centre of town; a small bar and a shabby dining room was the home of most of the Bradford judiciary at lunchtime. A last, fading remnant of the grand old days when Bradford was the wool capital of the world.

The judges hung on Stapleton's every word. Still a looker at forty-eight, she flirted outrageously while they guffawed and leched. Ignored, Hussain remained silent throughout the lunch. Unconcerned with their chatter, his mind was elsewhere.

As the coffees were handed out, Cranston deigned to speak to him: ‘Terribly sad all this. Met his father a couple of times. Nice chap. Must be awfully disappointed.'

‘I was surprised not to see him at court,' said Hussain. ‘You know, supporting his son.' Cranston sneered at Hussain's remark about a brother judge. Then: ‘I heard about that other matter you were suspected of. I hear it's gone away, for now?'

‘Yes, they had the wrong man. Seems to be happening rather a lot lately.'

Cranston didn't like Hussain one bit. No concept of how things were done. Didn't revere the judiciary at all. ‘Hadn't you better get back?' Cranston said through a faux smile, then added: ‘If he's convicted, I won't be adjourning for reports. I'll sentence today.'

‘But of course, judge,' Hussain replied. ‘
If
he's convicted.'

He cut a lone figure, thought Adey as she made her way over to Anderson. ‘Hello,' she said.

‘Hi, are you OK? Hussain told me what happened.'

‘I grew up in Moss Side – course I'm OK.'

‘Not to mention Mogadishu.'

A wistful smile. ‘I heard it didn't get us anywhere. I'm sorry.'

‘Listen, I know you tried everything, and then some.'

She believed in him, completely. That was enough for Anderson.

‘I'm glad you came, Adey. About us…'

She'd been waiting for this.

‘I don't know what will be left of me when I get out. Prison changes people. We've both seen that.'

She thought of Bahdoon and who he used to be. ‘Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Isn't that what pompous lawyers say?'

They both forced a smile.

‘All parties to Court One immediately.'

Verdict.

This was it. ‘Good luck, John.' Adey could hardly get her words out. ‘Aren't quick verdicts usually acquittals?'

Anderson shrugged.

The landing was soon full of press and public, jostling to get into the courtroom.

Someone was calling out: ‘John! John!'

Anderson stopped at the door of the court to see who it was.

Out of breath and panting, his brother, Stephen Anderson, marched across the landing. ‘John, I rang the court, they said you'd get a verdict today. I'm sorry I couldn't get here before – work.'

‘I understand. I'm amazed you could get up here at all. I keep seeing you on telly giving some opinion about the latest government policy. It's great to see you doing so well.'

‘I'm sorry about Mum and Dad. You know what they're like.'

Anderson nodded.

‘But I wanted you to know, whatever happens, I'm here for you. Whatever you need, let me know. Anything.'

Holding back the tears, they hugged.

Anderson was ready to face the music.

As Anderson was about to enter the courtroom, Hussain came up the stairs, still pulling on his gown.

Anderson waited for him. ‘I just wanted to say thanks again for everything, my friend. Win or lose.'

‘But I persuaded you to have a trial, John. Will you still thank me if you are convicted?' he asked anxiously.

Anderson smiled. ‘Of course. It was the right thing to do. I could never have lived with myself. I needed to know what actually happened. You earned me a “careless”. I made the decision to reject it, not you.'

‘But we still don't know what happened.'

‘But at least we tried.'

‘Yes, I tried my best – you know that, don't you?'

‘Of course.' Anderson sensed something more. ‘What is it, Tahir?'

‘It doesn't make any difference now, but you have a right to know.'

‘Know what?'

The usher came out of the courtroom: ‘Mr Hussain, didn't you hear the tannoy? Can I ask you to bring your client in immediately, we have a verdict.'

‘We're coming,' he replied. ‘Just a moment.'

The usher glowered at him, then went back into court.

‘Ahmed was blackmailing me.'

‘I know, about withdrawing from the case?'

‘I didn't give you the full story. He actually wanted me to defend you and to lose the trial.'

‘What?' Confused, Anderson took a few seconds to process the information.

Hussain could see his client's disappointment.

Anderson recalled how Hussain was instructed. ‘That's why you came to Bradford to see me at the prelim? Ahmed sent you?'

‘Yes, but I wanted to defend you. I could've just let you plead guilty.'

‘And Adey?'

‘She has no idea.'

Anderson was too shocked to be angry, which made Hussain feel even worse. ‘Why are you telling me now?'

‘Because you became my friend. It was easier to keep it from you when I didn't know you. I'm sorry.'

‘Did Ahmed have anything to do with the crash?'

‘I don't know. Really. I challenged him several times. He admitted nothing. And you know, there's no evidence against him.'

The usher came back out and this time physically pushed them through the door.

The courtroom was at bursting point. Even the judge was surprised when he came in. Counsels' rows were full of barristers from other courts, eager to see the outcome.

Anderson was oblivious to the hoards of people, still reeling from this new revelation.

When everyone was seated, the jurors came into court and took their seats.

A prison officer, standing next to Anderson in the dock, nudged him to his feet.

The court clerk addressed the jury: ‘Would the foreman please stand?'

A middle-aged man with glasses stood up. He had the appearance of being educated. Maybe that was a good sign, thought Hussain.

‘How do you find the defendant on count one, guilty or not guilty?'

Hussain prayed for an acquittal.

The courtroom held its breath.

‘Guilty.'

Gasps from the gallery.

Guilty? Anderson's legs gave way.

The dock officer, used to such events, pulled him back up and held Anderson until he could bear his own weight.

‘How do you find the defendant on count two?'

‘Guilty.'

Anderson's ashen face was blank.

The judge wasted no time: ‘A custodial sentence is inevitable. The defendant's previous character has been well demonstrated during the trial so I see no need to adjourn for a pre-sentence report from the probation service.'

Anderson could see the judge's mouth was moving, but he could take nothing in.

‘Anything you'd like to say, Mr Hussain?'

In shock, Hussain struggled to get his words out. Never had a verdict mattered so much to him. ‘No. Your Honour is aware of the Sentencing Council guidelines in this case?'

‘Yes, I am. Mr Anderson, this is a very serious offence that led to the death of a young woman and a five-year-old child. Nothing will bring them back and no sentence I pass on you can ever be measured against the loss of life. In my view you ran a cynical defence when it was obvious to all, including the jury, that you fell asleep whilst driving. Although I can't hold your right to have a trial against you, I cannot afford you the credit that would have been due on a guilty plea. I must also conclude that you show no remorse for this crime. Taking into account the guidelines of the Sentencing Council, the total sentence is five years' imprisonment, to run concurrently on each count. Take him down.'

The dock officer cuffed a shell-shocked Anderson and pushed him down the stairs inside the dock that led to the cells, and into another world.